Nightmare Most Real
by StrawberryTrebutchet
Summary: Harry Potter has been living at Hogwarts for most of his life under the primary care of Albus Dumbledore and Minerva McGonagall- happy and safe. But barely a month after his 9th Birthday, everything changes. And Harry is kidnapped. . . kidnapped by Death Eaters. . . Follows the events of 'Growing Up At Hogwarts' but can also be read as a separate story.
1. Chapter 1: Scared

**Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter, and I am not J.K Rowling.**

 **A/N: Hello.**

 **If you have read Growing Up At Hogwarts, great, and hello again! If you haven't, that's okay. You don't need to have done so to read this part. Events and information in Growing Up At Hogwarts will be referenced a few times, but it isn't crucial to the story.**

 ** _In Growing Up at Hogwarts, Dumbledore decides to take Harry in and raise him up at Hogwarts instead of taking him to the Dursleys, and the story goes through little snippets of Harry's life up until his 9th Birthday. Harry is mostly raised by Dumbledore and Minerva, but Remus and Hagrid are also important figures in his life._**

 **This story, Nightmare Most Real, is a continuation of this. It is also quite a bit darker. I wasn't sure what the rating should be, as T seems too soft but M a bit too much, so let's just say it is in between those two. Harry get's kidnapped by Death Eaters in this story, so please don't expect it to be very happy. He is going to get hurt, and he is going to suffer.**

 **There will hopefully also be a third part later on.**

 **Thank you for reading,**

 **\- StrawberryTrebutchet**

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 **Chapter One: Scared**

Albus Dumbledore was a very patient man.

He supposed he had to be, considering he'd raised Harry Potter since he was a year old, but it still shocked him sometimes just how calm he could be whilst being bombarded by nine-year-old excitement.

'Please, Albus! You promised!'

Dumbledore peered at the boy over his half-moon spectacles. He was standing at the foot of his cluttered desk, eyes wide and black hair as messy as ever.

It was moments like this that most reminded him of James and Lily Potter.

'Harry,' he said pleasantly. 'I am afraid it is getting too dark outside. Look-' He turned his head and indicated to the large windows behind him. The sky was still light- barely- but twilight was fast approaching. Albus could already see the sun beginning to disappear behind the mountains that surrounded Hogwarts Castle.

'But you _promised_ I could go and see Hagrid today,' Harry said. 'It's not that dark. I'll be quick, honest!'

Dumbledore drummed his fingers on the wooden surface of the desk and spared a glance at Professor McGonagall. Minerva was sitting on a chair next to a large bookcase, watching the scene with amusement. She shook her head when she saw him looking and smiled.

Albus sighed.

'Are you sure you want to go? It _is_ rather cold out there at the moment.'

'Yes!' Harry cried. 'I don't mind if it's cold, I really don't. I'll be warm inside Hagrid's cabin- and I'm wearing my jumper!' Harry pulled at the dark sweater he had on and smiled.

'Alright.' Dumbledore conceded after a few seconds. 'But Hagrid has to bring you back, Harry.'

'Okay, okay!'

Albus smiled, eyes twinkling. 'Off you go now, and don't be long.'

'I won't!' Harry spun around and rushed to the gargoyle that would take him down into the corridor outside the office. He hopped from foot to foot on the first step- 'Bye-bye Albus, bye-bye Aunt Minnie!'- and he was gone, sprinting down the corridors several breaths later. The flaming torches lining the inside walls of the castle burned brightly and flickered as he rushed by. Harry ran down the main staircase that led into the Entrance Hall, nearly tripping over in his hurry, and shot past a sour looking Professor Snape as he stepped out of the Great Hall.

'Potter!' Snape snarled, but the boy had already disappeared.

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Harry squeezed past the front doors of the castle and stood outside, shivering.

It was much colder than he'd realized, actually. And darker, too. The sun had nearly completely vanished. But it didn't matter, did it? Soon he'd be sitting in front of Hagrid's warm fire, snuggling with Fang and drinking from a huge mug of hot chocolate.

 _Maybe he'll give me one of his rock cakes!_ Harry thought cheekily, and started giggling.

'I'm a 'cromantula, I'm a 'croMANtula!' he sang as he jumped down the large front steps and started skipping across the lawn. 'I'm a 'croMANtula! I'm a 'cromantuLA!'

The moon was up in the sky, but right now it was covered by a thick mass of grey clouds. As the last light from the dying sun disappeared, the grounds around Hogwarts were shrouded in darkness. Harry paused for a second, squinting ahead. There! He could just see the orange lights from inside Hagrid's cabin a hundred feet ahead, but everything else was dark and scary and full of shadows. Harry took a few tentative steps forwards. . .

 _BANG!_

His legs gave way without warning and he toppled forwards. The wet grass did nothing to soften the impact and Harry hit the ground hard, eyes watering as his chin hit the dirt. He started to sit up, but it was suddenly as if something big and heavy was holding him down- he could not move.

Then a pair of strong hands were grabbing him roughly by the shoulders and pulling him to his feet. Harry immediately tried to yank away, but was soon pinned against the chest of whoever had picked him up.

'Let me go!' Harry screamed, struggling. Fear had kicked in as suddenly as if he'd been dunked in a pool of water, and he knew something was very, very wrong. 'HAGRID!'

'That stupid oaf won't hear you,' said a gruff voice to Harry's left, and Harry saw that there were other people all around him- robed figures that stood together, arms raised. Even by the light of their wands, Harry couldn't see their faces. He tried to say something else but the words caught in his throat and he found it impossible to speak.

They started moving quickly, towards the Forbidden Forest. The moon had come out from behind the thick clouds in the sky, but as they reached the edge of the trees it soon became obscured once again by the thick branches and leaves of the canopy above.

Harry was terrified.

He'd never been in the forest before, because everyone always told him it was dangerous. There were monsters in there- 'cromantulas and half-people and werewolves. Again, Harry tried to free himself, but the person carrying him was holding him so tightly he could barely move his arms. The figures stormed through the undergrowth, not seeming to care how much noise they were making. Harry's legs brushed over sticks and logs and bushes, scraping his feet and muddying his sneakers.

'L-let me g-go!' Harry managed to say again, but it came out croaky and muffled. He coughed a few times, and took in a shuddering breath that sent a wave of icy air through his lungs. No one paid him any attention, and they continued moving steadily through the forest.

Harry could not tell how long it had been since he'd tripped and they'd grabbed him, but they had definitely walked deep into the forest. The trees were thicker here, and the moon even harder to see. The only thing lighting up the suffocating darkness were the small moving points of light emitting from each of the figures' wands. They stopped, quite abruptly, and the person holding Harry let go. Harry fell to his knees, before quickly pushing himself to his feet- shaking from head to foot as his eyes darted around wildly.

Some of the figures were standing around, staring at him. Others were looking off into the forest and had their wands raised in defensive positions.

Harry took several small steps back. He wanted to run away, to run through the thick trees back the way they'd come until he reached the safety of Hagrid's cabin- but he had no idea in what direction that was, and fear of what might be waiting for him in the dark kept his legs frozen in place.

'I w-want to go back,' he said weakly. One of the figures in front of him gave a short bark of laughter, and Harry jumped in shock.

'Are yer scared, Potter? Scared of the things in the dark?' the man said. He started walking towards Harry, who shrank back. 'Are yer scared of the monsters? Scared of the. . . _werewolves?'_

'No. . .' whimpered Harry, eyes prickling with tears.

'One of my mates is a werewolf, Potter, and he could kill you right now. He could bite you if I asked!' The man laughed again. Then he turned away and yelled something to another one of the figures.

Harry stood- shivering and shaking- until he was grabbed once more and pushed forwards, to where several of the others were standing. Even in the dark, he could see that there was something else there as well. The air in front of him shimmered and rippled, like a curtain of water. Harry had never seen anything like it before, but he didn't have time to wonder what it might be. The figure holding him took a brisk step into the strange air, and there was a loud _CRACK!_ Harry felt the breath being squeezed out of his chest; he tried to scream, but nothing would come out. Then he was spinning and spinning, the forest trees blurring together in slashes of green and black and brown, until the world around him disappeared entirely. . .

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A/N: Please Review :)


	2. Chapter 2: Death Eaters

**Disclaimer:** I am not the owner of Harry Potter

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 **Chapter Two: Death Eaters**

Harry slammed into the ground, stunned. All around him the figures were appearing, and Harry saw that they were all wearing black cloaks and had their heads covered by grotesque masks, which they were now vanishing with lazy flicks of their wands.

Faces were emerging, both scowling and smirking.

They were in a room- a large, lit room with rough stone walls, floors and ceilings, a wooden door on one end, and no windows at all. Harry got shakily to his feet and backed up until he was pressed against one of the walls behind him. His knees felt like jelly and he wanted to collapse onto the floor again, but he stayed standing. His mind was in chaos- _what had happened? What was he doing here? He wanted to go back- he wanted to be at Hogwarts!_

And he was afraid, so very afraid.

Some of the figures were looking at him. A woman stepped out of the group- she had black curly hair that hung around her shoulders and dark eyes that blinked at him from under thick lidded eyelashes.

' _Harry Potter,'_ she whispered, and Harry felt a shiver run all through his body. She was staring at him as if she'd never seen a child before.

'P-please, I want to go home!' Harry said, his voice rising slightly. 'L-let me go. . .'

The witch said nothing. Instead, she reached out and pulled Harry towards the centre of the room, where all of the other figures stood. Harry tried to resist, but she was much stronger and it only made him stumble. A man standing behind her- his grey eyes glinting- reached out and yanked Harry's head back roughly. Harry gave a small whimper- squirming- but the witch gripped him tightly, digging her nails into his sleeve. His hair was brushed out of the way and his forehead exposed. The whole room stared at it.

'The scar. . .' whispered the woman, raising a finger to touch it. But before she could, Harry felt a sharp pain flare up in his head, exactly the same as he had felt that day a month before his birthday. He yelled, yanking his arms up to his face and pressing the palms of his hands against his forehead. Harry dropped to the ground, but the pain had gone as quickly as it had come. He felt numb.

Then the witch was dragging him up by the shoulder, and Harry was shoved violently against the wall, impacting it so hard he gasped. _No, no, no!_

He wanted to disappear, to wake up from this nightmare, but it was all too real. . .

'Are you scared, baby Hawwy? Are you scared of the bad widdle Death Eaters?' she was speaking to him, her voice quiet and soft. Harry looked up at her, eyes wide. _Death Eaters? What were Death Eaters?_ He felt as though the word was familiar, somehow, as if he should know what it meant. . .

'W-w-what-' he started to get out.

' _What?'_ she said. The figures- the _Death Eaters-_ were laughing.

'What are _Death Eaters?'_ she repeated, staring at Harry. 'You _don't know?'_

Harry shook his head; trying to be brave, trying to stay strong. . .

'He doesn't know!' the woman shrieked. 'Dear old _Dumbledore_ hasn't told him anything!' she looked around, grinning gleefully.

'Now, now- Bellatrix,' the man who had pulled Harry's head back earlier said reproachfully, though he seemed amused. His gaze fell on Harry, and his lips curled upwards in a half smile. 'He's only a boy, isn't he? No older than my Draco. . .'

'I-I'm n-nine-' Harry spoke up weakly.

'Nine!' exclaimed the man, as if it were the most curious thing he'd ever heard. 'Ah, but he's _nine!'_ The Death Eaters behind him laughed again.

Harry didn't see what was so funny. He just wanted to go _home._ 'P-please, I want to go-'

More laughter. The witch, Bellatrix, leaned down so that her face was level with his. 'Is the poor baby frightwened?' she mocked slowly. 'Does the widdle Harry want to go back to dear old Hogwarts?' Harry blinked away tears. _He had to be brave. That's what a Gryffindor was, right? And Harry wanted to be a Gryffindor when he was old enough._ 'I want A-Albus-'

Bellatrix stood up and looked around. Then she flicked her wand, and Harry found himself rising up into the air. A second later he was being pressed into the wall behind him, several feet above the floor. He tried to move- tried to struggle- but thick, invisible ropes were snaking out of the stone and binding him tightly from head to foot.

'N-n-no!' he choked out.

Bellatrix walked up to him and stroked the hair out of his eyes. Harry wanted to pull away, but he couldn't even move his head from side to side.

'Shhh, baby Harry,' she murmured. 'The Dark Lord will come, and then- soon- you'll be able to see precious Mummy and Daddy again.'

Harry stared at her in shock, face wet with tears. 'Wh-what do you m-mean?'

'Why do you think you are here, Harry Potter?' she said softly. 'The Dark Lord failed to kill you eight years ago, but he won't fail this time. You'll join your parents were you belong!'

'D-d-dark l-lord?' Something seemed to click inside Harry, and suddenly he knew who _he_ was- who Bellatrix was talking about. 'Voldemort!'

The witch hissed as though burned and drew back. 'You dare speak his name?' she whispered again, and there was a deadly tone to her voice.

'B-but h-h-he's dead!' said Harry, shaking. Dread filled him, and he felt sick. 'A-Albus said he's g-gone!'

'Gone!?' screeched Bellatrix. 'The Dark Lord was never gone! The Dark Lord is immortal, and he'll kill you, Potter! He'll _destroy_ you!'

'N-n-no, you're lying! He's dead-'

' _Am_ I, Potter?'

. . .

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A/N: From now on, I will try to post chapters once a week, on a Thursday/Friday.

Please review :)


	3. Chapter 3: Voldemort

**Disclaimer: Harry Potter is not mine**

 **A/N: Couldn't resist posting this a little earlier than planned**

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 **Chapter Three: Voldemort**

Lord Voldemort had entered the room.

Voldemort stepped forwards, his gaze sweeping the room and glancing at each of the Death Eaters in turn as they scrambled to line the walls. His face was pale as chalk; his nose flat like a snake's, with slits for nostrils. His lips thin and pressed tightly together. Blood red eyes fell on Harry for a split second, before looking away.

Harry wanted to scream, wanted to run and flee and never look back again, but it was as though every bit of his body had turned to ice. Bellatrix had thrown herself at Voldemort's feet and was clutching his robes.

'Master. . . master. . .' she was saying. 'I did not know you would be back so soon-'

'Quiet, Bella,' hissed Voldemort, and his cold voice sent a chill all down Harry's spine. Bellatrix moved to stand with her fellow Death Eaters by the walls, and Voldemort turned to another one of the robed figures.

'Lucius, my slippery friend. I assume everything was successful?'

The man- and Harry could see he was the same one who had spoken before- bowed down in front of Voldemort. 'Yes, my lord.' he replied curtly. 'We were not seen, not even by the half-breeds in the forest. We broke the wards without detection.' He swallowed, unsure if he should say more.

'Good.' Voldemort replied, turning away. Then he began pacing, slowly.

'We gather here tonight,' Voldemort began, 'To celebrate- to savour- our victory! Something I believed nearly impossible several months ago- to penetrate Hogwarts' wards and snatch Harry Potter from under Albus Dumbledore's nose- has been achieved. Months of planning, my friends. Months of planning and calculating. And now, he is here, standing right before us, and Dumbledore will only just now be realizing he is gone. Too late, of course. Much too late.' Voldemort smiled coldly, and his red eyes fell on Harry again, who tried not to scream out loud as pain shot through his scar once more.

'Over eight years ago, I set out to destroy what I then believed could be a threat to me. A prophecy- of a baby born at the end of July to two parents who had thrice defied me- was enough to make me cautious, true or not. And the Potters were my enemy, close to Dumbledore and strong enough to take out over fifteen of my best Death Eaters. I set out to kill them then, to kill Harry Potter. But as you know, that night, something went wrong. Pain, my friends. Pain such as no one has ever experienced before. I was ripped from my body, I became something less than a spirit! But I survived. I pushed on. I kept myself alive for years, hoping every day that my Death Eaters would come and help me become my former self once more. And they did come, late last year. One faithful Death Eater heard rumours that I was alive and residing in a forest of Albania. He searched for me, found me, and helped me when I was most vulnerable. And so I was returned to nearly my full strength, in secret. Suddenly I was in better form than I had been in years. I summoned you all to my side, brought you from Azkaban, and confessed my thoughts. I wanted Harry Potter. I wanted him dead at my feet. I wanted him to suffer. But how to get at him? Then, Lucius surprised me. He told me that the boy lived in Hogwarts Castle, under the guardianship and protection of Albus Dumbledore. The plan was hatched. It was successful.'

Voldemort turned to face Harry directly.

'Over eight years ago, I set out to destroy Harry Potter. I was unsuccessful, not because of him- he was a mere infant, barely able to stand up in his crib unassisted- but because of his mother. When I tried to kill him, Lily Potter shielded her baby with her life and accidentally gave him a protection that ended up later backfiring on me. It was ancient magic, magic that I should have foreseen- but no matter. That protection runs in Harry Potter's veins. It has been coursing through his body since he was a year old. And so, of course, when I tried, I could not touch him.'

Voldemort signaled for Bellatrix to come forwards, and she did so hurriedly.

'I need Harry Potter's blood,' whispered Voldemort. 'Only then will I be able to defeat him.'

He nodded slightly to Bellatrix, and she seemed to already know what to do, because she took out a short, stubby knife from the inside of her robes and advanced towards Harry with the blade. Harry knew what was about to happen- every nerve in his body was screaming at him to flee- but he could do nothing to escape. He couldn't move, he couldn't speak. Bellatrix quickly pushed his sleeve up and out of the way, leaving the crook of his right arm exposed. Harry squirmed and struggled against the ropes, but she held his wrist tightly and brought the blade down on his skin with her other hand. Harry cried out as a red slash appeared, blood immediately pouring out and streaming down his arm. The cut was burning, stinging, and the feeling was spreading all up his arm. _It hurt. . . oh, it hurt!_ Harry was shaking all over- tears dripped down his face and onto his jumper.

A cool glass vial was pressed below the cut, collecting the blood. Voldemort took the vial from Bellatrix and brought it to his lips. He took a swing, almost matter-of-factly, and vanished the glass with a flick of his wand.

'Harry Potter,' he hissed. 'The-Boy-Who-Lived.'

Harry raised his head and stared- through blurred tears- into the scarlet eyes of his worst enemy. Voldemort smiled, the same cruel smile as before, and raised a hand until it was hovering over Harry's face.

'N-n-no-' Harry choked out.

One of Voldemort's long, white fingers touched the edge of Harry's cheek, and it was pain- the worst pain he had ever felt. _It was worse than the cut, ten times worse, and he couldn't believe he had thought that the cut was bad._ Harry screamed now. His scar felt as though it would burst open any second. . . his head was surely splitting in half. . .

And then it was over. Voldemort removed his finger and the pain instantly faded. Harry was sobbing, head down, his eyes squeezed shut. Voldemort laughed softly in his ear, then forcefully clasped the boy's jaw and pushed it upwards.

'Look at me, Harry,' he whispered.

Harry opened his eyes again and locked them with Voldemort's, breaths coming out in short gasps. Voldemort's gaze bore into him, as though he was seeing right through his skull. Harry felt a sharp pain in the back of his head and made a weak noise in surprise, but Voldemort continued to stare at him, gripping his jaw painfully. Then he let go and took a few measured steps back.

'P-p-please d-don't k-kill me!' Harry burst out, and was immediately shocked by his own words. Voldemort gave a small chuckle: mirrored hesitantly by the Death Eaters behind him.

'Kill you, Harry?' Voldemort sounded amused. 'And why would I do that?'

Harry remained silent, shaking.

'No, Harry. I will not kill you,' Voldemort answered him softly after a short pause. 'Not now, when the game has only just begun. We haven't even had the real fun yet! But first- yes- I mustn't forget. . . _the prophecy._ The prophecy hidden in the Department of Mysteries. The prophecy about you and I.'

Harry wanted to ask what he meant, but he was still in shock, and his voice stuck in his throat. Voldemort seemed to have sensed his unspoken question, however.

'Ah, but you do not know, do you Harry?' he said, amused. ' _Dumbledore_ never told you.' He began to laugh- a cold, high laugh that made all the hairs on the back of Harry's neck stand on end. _It was worse like this. . . it was worse than when he didn't. . ._

'But I _must_ tell you before you retrieve it for me!' Voldemort pronounced. 'A prophecy was made about us before your birth, Harry, dictating the future. A certain- _source_ \- managed to relay it to me. However, he did not manage to hear it all, and my knowledge has since been incomplete. I need to retrieve the prophecy from the Ministry of Magic, Harry Potter, and you will get it for me. You will get it for me or I will make you suffer more than you've ever suffered before. I will make you feel pain worse than you could ever imagine.' Voldemort's red eyes seemed to burn as he stared at Harry.

Harry nodded numbly, trying to squeeze the tears out of his eyes. Voldemort was still for a few seconds, then flicked his hand: the ropes around him suddenly vanished, and Harry fell to his knees. A Death Eater wearing a mask gripped him by his jumper and pulled him into a standing position before pinning Harry underneath his arm and digging his wand under his chin. Harry made no effort to resist, and let himself fold into the robes of the Death Eater. His arms were trapped in front of him too, as if he were shielding himself. He wouldn't have moved even if he could- it was no use struggling, and he was too scared to move anyway. Voldemort was still looking at him. Then, a split second later, everything was gone.

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Albus Dumbledore sat at his desk in his office. It was getting late, and he was starting to wonder why Harry and Hagrid were taking so long to get back. Yes, Hagrid was a bit lax at times, but he was always reliable when it came to Harry. Albus supposed it was possible that they'd both fallen asleep to the warmth of the fireplace, but a part of him doubted it.

'Albus?' Minerva looked up from the book she was reading in the chair across the room from him. There was a questioning tone in her voice- she had obviously come to the same conclusion as him. It had to have been at least an hour since Harry had left.

Albus shook his head, then stood up. 'I will go and get him now,' he said. 'I am sure-'

He stopped abruptly as he sensed somebody coming up through the rotating entrance to the office, and smiled. 'Ahh, here he comes.'

But it was not Harry Potter who walked into the office.

'Hagrid!' Albus didn't bother to hide his shock. Minerva had stood up now, too, frowning.

'Where's Harry?' she said.

'Eh?' Hagrid looked confused. He approached the desk and looked around. 'I was jus' comin' up ter ask, professors. Wasn't he goin' ter come down ter night ter see me?'

An eerie silence followed.

'Harry didn't arrive at the cabin?' Albus questioned.

'No, I was waiting fer him to show up, and- wait, are yeh saying he came down?'

Albus was still for few seconds. A horrible, sick feeling was starting to seep in. He closed his eyes and began to gently wave his wand around in circles, the other arm raised. Hagrid and Minerva watched, puzzled, as Albus murmured a series of Latin words and tapped one of the walls of the office with his wand. Then, abruptly, he dropped his arms and opened his eyes. The next words sent a chill through the room.

'Harry isn't in the castle.'

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A/N: So now Albus and Minerva (and Hagrid) know that Harry isn't in the castle (and surrounding grounds), but they don't know why or who has taken him. Albus suspects, of course, that it has something to do with Voldemort, but he does not know for certain.

You may be wondering how Bellatrix and some of the other Death Eaters are there when they are supposed to be in Azkaban. Well, Voldemort managed to create what looked like 'copies' of their bodies before stealthily breaking them out, so the general population believes they have died. I realise this may not be a very strong explanation, but it was the best I could think of.

Please review :)


	4. Chapter 4: The Department of Mysteries

**Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter**

 **A/N: Anything you recognise is taken from the Order of the Phoenix chapters with The Department of Mysteries in them.**

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 **Chapter Four: The Department of Mysteries**

The wind howled around them, whipping about Harry's hair and making the tears freeze to his cheeks. Harry pressed his hands together and brought his arms up to his chest in a shielding position, but the cold was so bitter it sliced through his jumper like a knife. . . _like the knife Bellatrix had used._ . . The Death Eaters walking behind him pushed and jeered, and Harry stumbled through the dark alleyway, closer and closer to the red telephone booth that he knew was the entrance to the Ministry.

Harry could feel the dry blood from the cut on his arm underneath his clothes. It still stung, but it was nowhere near the pain he had felt when Voldemort touched him. Harry shivered and hugged himself tightly. He just wanted to go home. . . _would they let him go, once they took the prophecy for them? Would he be able to go back to Hogwarts? He just wanted to go back, that's all! He hadn't done anything wrong. . ._

Lucius, who had been leading the way a little ahead of him, pushed open the door of the booth and shoved Harry inside. Harry backed away into the furthest corner he could and huddled there as the other Death Eaters filed in. One of the cloaked men pressed a few numbers on a little dial, and a cool female voice spoke:

' _Welcome to the Ministry of Magic. Please state your name and busine-'_

'Never mind that!' growled Lucius, impatient. 'We're here to retrieve a prophecy!'

' _Thank you,'_ said the voice. _'Visitors, please take the badges and attach them to the front of your robes.'_

A dozen silver badges slid out of a metal chute near Harry's head, and he moved back, but none of the Death Eaters reached to take any. The voice spoke again, but Harry wasn't listening to what the lady said. Then, a split second later, the floor of the telephone booth shuddered and the pavement rose up past its glass windows. With a dull grinding noise, they sank down into the depths of the Ministry of Magic.

A soft, golden light hit their feet and then rose up their bodies, and Harry pressed himself against the glass side of the booth as they reached the Atrium. He recognised it from when Albus and Aunt Minnie had brought him to the Ministry once when he was younger. The place was entirely empty, and there were no flames in the huge fireplaces set into the walls. One of the Death Eaters took Harry's arm and pulled him into the hall. The small group began walking fast, with Lucius in the lead again. Harry stumbled to catch up with the quickening pace, and would've fallen over several times if the Death Eater hadn't been holding him so tightly. They rushed past the large golden fountain in the middle of the Atrium, but Harry had no time to look at it closely. They headed down a corridor near an empty booth which read _'Wand Registration'_ on a large sign. The only sound Harry could hear was the trickle of water in the fountain and their feet clattering on the marble floor. They reached another lift and Harry was pushed in again. As the lift began to go down, it made so much noise that he wished somebody would hear and come and rescue him, but the entire place was completely deserted. The grilles rattled and opened, and the Death Eaters set out down a corridor. The only light came from the flaming torches on the wall. They reached a plain black door, and everybody went through.

They were in a large, circular room. Everything in there was black, including the floor and ceiling, and the identical handleless black doors set at intervals all around the black walls. Between the doors hung candles whose flames burned blue; their cool, shimmering light reflected off the black marble and flickered in Harry's eyes.

All of a sudden, the room started spinning. The doors were blurring, the blue light leaving bright streaks across the black backdrop. Although the floor was still, Harry- disoriented and dizzy- dropped to the ground. Then everything came to a sickening stop, and Harry saw that there was no way to tell which door they had come in through. All hopes of being found by somebody else evaporated. He wanted to cry.

The Death Eaters were trying to open a few of the doors. One of them swung open, and a few of the Death Eaters poked their head in. Harry saw, as he slowly stood up again, that the room was much brighter than the one he was in. He could just make out the shapes of a few desks surrounding a large, glass tank filled with green water. It took up most of the whole room, and was so big Harry's entire bed would have fit comfortably in it. Floating around in the strange liquid were a number of pearly white, slimy objects. They reminded Harry of something, but he couldn't remember exactly what. Then one of the Death Eaters closed the door with a snap, and the room began spinning again.

They tried a few more doors, some which didn't open at all and others that led to nothing but darkness, before someone gave a shout of triumph and everybody went through. Lucius pointed his wand at Harry, the tip which was now lit with the _Lumos_ spell, and Harry shakily made his way in.

The new room was filled with dancing, sparkling light. As Harry's eyes became accustomed to the bright glare, he saw clocks gleaming from every surface- hanging between rows of bookcases or standing on the desks that filled the room. A relentless, busy ticking sound from the hundreds of clocks filled the place. It sounded like thousands of minuscule, marching footsteps. The Death Eaters hurried past the desks, and Harry saw that the source of the sparkling light was a towering crystal bell jar that stood at the far end of the room. Drifting along in the sparkling current inside was a tiny, bright egg. As Harry got nearer, the egg rose in the jar and cracked open; a colourful bird emerged and was carried to the top of the jar. Despite his fear and the loud thumping in his chest, Harry stopped to watch the scene, transfixed.

'Move!' barked one of the Death Eaters behind him, and with a start, Harry hurried after the figures ahead of him. The Death Eater took him by his collar, and Harry was half dragged, half carried the rest of the way until they passed under a door frame and entered the next room.

It was as high as a church and full of nothing but towering shelves covered in small, dusty glass orbs. They glimmered dully in the light issuing from more candle brackets set at intervals along the walls. Like the ones in the circular room, these also burnt with a blue flame. Harry instantly knew that this is where they had meant to come all along. He breathed harshly, and a puff of misty air appeared in front of his eyes. It was very cold.

'Come on,' ordered Lucius, a few meters ahead of Harry. His face was nearly completely obscured by the shadows. 'They could discover us any minute!'

They rushed past rows and rows of the tall shelves until they reached one that had a sign saying _'Row 97'._

'Here it is…' whispered Lucius, pushing Harry towards the shelf in front of them. Harry peered up. He could just read the inscription on a yellowish label fixed onto the shelf beneath a dusty glass ball:

 _S.P.T to A.P.W.B.D Dark Lord and (?) Harry Potter_

Harry stared at it. His heart was thumping even harder in his chest. He felt scared.

'Get it,' hissed Lucius through is teeth, making Harry jump. 'Take it off, Potter!'

Harry stretched his arm up as high as he could, but he couldn't reach the glass ball. He tried standing on his toes, but his fingers barely brushed the shelf it was on.

'I can't get it,' Harry said weakly. 'It's too high.'

Bellatrix pointed her wand at him, and Harry immediately brought his hands up to shield himself. She laughed, but said nothing save for a muttered incantation. Harry felt his feet leave the ground and he rose slowly, closer to the shelf, until his face was level with the dusty round ball. Hands shaking, he closed them around the cool glass and was slowly lowered back down to the ground.

'Well, boy?' she breathed. 'Accio Prophecy!'

Harry felt the ball begin to slip from his fingers, but Lucius threw his arm forwards and knocked Bellatrix's wand hand away, stopping the spell.

'No!' he yelled, a panicked edge to his voice. 'You'll break it!' Bellatrix glared at him, but didn't reply. Lucius turned back around, and Harry looked up into his empty grey eyes.

'Now, Potter,' he said smoothly. 'Hand it over like a good boy.'

'You'll- you'll hurt me,' whispered Harry. 'You'll hurt me and kill me!'

'I give you my word that I will not harm you,' said the Death Eater. 'Now hand me the prophecy!'

Harry hesitated for a brief second, then slowly held out his hands. Lucius took the glass orb and raised it up to eye-level.

'Yes…' he murmured. 'The Dark Lord will reward us greatly for this.' He turned to the other Death Eaters and opened his mouth to speak.

 _SMASH!_

A shelf nearby exploded, and Harry screamed and brought his arms up to protect his face. He tried to run, but one of the Death Eaters had grabbed him. There were shouts coming closer and a few flashing beams of light cut through the darkness. The Death Eaters were running, pulling Harry along with him. A bright red stream of light shot past Harry and smashed into one of the shelves. It exploded too, and glass shards rained down on their heads. Everything had begun to blur again, and Harry felt like he was going to suffocate. Then a familiar squeezing sensation engulfed him, and Harry closed his eyes as they began to spin again, knowing in his heart that he was going back to the room, going back to Voldemort, and that he would never again return home.

* * *

A/N: The next chapter will kick up a bit, and it's when things start to get darker

Please review :)


	5. Chapter 5: Pain

**Disclaimer: Harry Potter is not (and will never be) mine**

A/N: Thank you to everyone who has left a review, followed, favourited or read this story so far :)

I have posted this chapter a little early because it is quite short. There will be another one on Thursday/Friday.

* * *

 **Chapter Five: Pain**

He landed on his knees as Lucius, Bellatrix and the other Death Eaters appeared around him. Without even having to look, Harry knew that they were in the same room as before and that Voldemort was there. Tears threatened to spill from his eyes.

'My lord,' Lucius murmured. 'My lord, the prophecy!' he held the dusty sphere in his hand triumphantly. Voldemort stepped over to him and took, holding it up to the light. A thin, sadistic smile spread across his pale features. 'You have done well,' he said, and dismissed his Death Eater with a small wave. The other Death Eaters had spread to the sides of the room and were watching intently, completely still. Lucius stepped back to join them.

Harry sat on the floor, frozen in place as Voldemort cast a charm around the two of them- a silencing charm, though Harry didn't know this- and hovered the prophecy in mid-air, tapping it with his wand.

A misty, ghost-like figure of a woman drifted out of the orb and began to speak:

' _The one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord approaches. . . born to those who have thrice defied him, born as the seventh month dies. . . and the Dark Lord will mark him as his equal, but he will have power the Dark Lord knows not. . . and either must die at the hand of the other for neither can live while the other survives. . . the one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord will be born as the seventh month dies. . .'_

Harry's head was spinning. With a swish of his wand, Voldemort removed the charm so that the Death Eaters could hear him again. He was staring at Harry, red eyes burning.

 _'. . . but he will have power the Dark Lord knows not. . .'_

Voldemort stepped forwards so that he was standing directly in front of Harry.

'Tell me, Harry Potter, what does that mean?'

Harry didn't understand. He was shaking again, trying desperately not to cry. He had no idea what a prophecy was, or why he had gone to get it! All he knew was that it was important, somehow, and that Voldemort really, really wanted it. But he didn't know why. He didn't know anything. . .

And he was _so, so_ scared.

Voldemort looked down at him for a few seconds, not saying a word. And then- out of the blue- kicked him in the ribs. Harry yelled and convulsed from the sudden pain, clutching at his chest as he lay flat on the floor.

'How could _anyone_ think that this boy would ever be my downfall?' hissed Voldemort.

'P-p-please-' cried Harry, his ribs burning, but Voldemort raised his wand.

' _Crucio!'_

It was pain, pain beyond anything he had ever experienced. He was on fire- his very bones were on fire. White-hot knives were stabbing every bit of him they could. It felt like a beater's bat had been swung into his head- and then his arms and chest and legs- only it was thousand times worse, and Harry didn't understand how there could be so much pain. He was screaming, yelling, begging for it to stop. It felt like death. He _wanted_ to die- die so that he could escape the fire burning through his bones, the shocks spasming his body, the bat slamming into him over and over again. . .

And then, just as suddenly as it had started, it was over. The room rang with the Death Eaters' laughter, Bellatrix's louder than the rest. Harry's face and sweater were soaked in sweat and tears. He was shaking and sobbing on the floor at Voldemort's feet; his vision was blurred and the world felt like it had been tipped upside down. Several seconds later he had thrown up all over the floor. Voldemort smiled coldly at him for a few moments, before turning around and addressing his Death Eaters.

'I will call for your return later tonight,' Voldemort said. Then he strode towards the open door at the other end of the room and disappeared through it. The Death Eaters slowly followed.

Harry didn't know how long he lay there, alone and crying as his whole body ached from the curse, and his bones felt like lead. But eventually, he fell asleep.

* * *

Eight hours. Eight hours had passed since they'd realised Harry was gone, and they still hadn't found him. They'd searched everywhere around the school, even though Albus knew Harry wasn't anywhere near the castle. His spell had told him that. His _instinct_ had told him that. He knew that Harry's disappearance meant only one thing, that Lord Voldemort had somehow returned to his former strength and managed to snatch him right from the grounds- Voldemort was the only one with enough power and knowledge to do so- but he was still hesitant to believe it. _How had it even been possible, how could it have been so easy?_

Even now, with the evidence staring at him plainly in the face in the form of a Daily Prophet article printed that morning, which stated that somebody had broken into the Department of Mysteries in the late hours of the previous night.

' _. . . the Aurors are working to arrest the individuals, but Minister Bagnold says there is no cause for concern. "We now know that these people, these men and women, are not dangerous," she told reporters early this morning. 'It is obvious they were nothing but young hooligans with no purpose but to cause a bit of destruction! While we are working to apprehend them, we feel that they are no threat to the rest of society."_ Minerva threw the newspaper onto the desk in front of her.

'Albus- does this- do you think-'

'I do.' Albus looked down at his lap, a thousand thoughts rushing through his mind. _This explained things._ _'_ And it has only confirmed what I've already told you I suspected.'

'He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named has _Harry_ ,' whispered Minerva tearfully.

'Yes,' said Dumbledore thickly. 'It is the only thing that explains his disappearance.'

'You- you don't think- he's _not_ dead, Albus! He _can't_ be- I refuse to believe it!'

'No, Minerva. I doubt Harry is dead. But if he isn't, if Voldemort has decided to keep him alive. . .' Albus leaned back in his seat and put his head in his hands. Minerva could tell he was trying not to break down. She herself was the same. In just a few short hours, their entire world had crumbled. And _Harry!_

'You know what he does to his enemies, Minerva. We've both seen- in the last war- what he is capable of. And he despises Harry more than he has ever hated me.'

* * *

A/N: Please review :)


	6. Chapter 6: The Duel

**Disclaimer: I am not J.K Rowling**

 **A/N: Here is the second chapter of the week**

* * *

 **Chapter Six: The Duel**

Harry stirred. Everything felt strange- unfamiliar. He was lying on the floor, he could feel that. Had he fallen off the bed? That hadn't happened since he was very little. . .

Harry began to push himself up into a sitting position, but stopped when he noticed suddenly just how tired and heavy his body felt. Panic flared up inside him. _What was going on? Was he sick? Why was he on the floor? It was so cold-_

Harry's eyes shot open, glancing around wildly, and it was then that the memories of everything that had happened came flooding back, hitting him like a ton of bricks.

 _Hagrid. . . Death Eaters. . . The Forest. . . Pain. . . Voldemort!_

'No!' Harry sat bolt upright, heard thudding madly. _It had to have been a dream. . . it_ couldn't _be real. . ._

But no, he was in the room- the same room. He- _Voldemort-_ had done something to him. Thrown a spell at him, a _hurting_ spell. It had made him feel pain- the worst pain in the world. Harry gave a loud sob and brought his arms up to his face.

He couldn't believe it- couldn't grasp the fact that he had been taken away from Hogwarts- _kidnapped-_ and that Voldemort, the darkest and most evil wizard in the world, a wizard who had killed his parents and tried to kill him, was here- wherever _here_ was- and had hurt him. It all seemed like a nightmare- like a horrible, sick nightmare. But he knew it was all real. In just a few short hours, his whole world had been turned upside down. They'd gone to The Ministry, to all those strange dark rooms, and had gotten the glass ball- the Prophecy that Voldemort wanted so much, that had made him hurt Harry in anger. . . anger Harry didn't even understand. . .

The sound of heavy footsteps broke the harsh silence around him. Harry looked up, blinking, and saw the door at the far end of the room open. A man strode in, cloak billowing out behind him: _Lucius._ Harry shrank into himself at the sight, shaking.

'Get up, Potter.' The Death Eater reached Harry and gave him a small kick with the edge of his boot. 'Stand up. _Now_.'

'No-oh-oh. . .' Harry whimpered, squeezing his hands into tight fists. He didn't want to get up, didn't want to move. Lucius drew his wand and pointed it at him.

'Get up,' he said, voice dangerously low, and Harry slowly got to his feet, swaying unsteadily as blood rushed to his head. 'Walk.'

'D-don't w-want to-' Harry stammered, tears in his eyes. 'It hurts-' Harry froze, the words caught in his throat as he felt Lucius' wand jab into the centre of his back.

They began walking.

Lucius led him down a dark corridor. There were flaming torches on the walls, but they let off such a low light Harry could barely see more than a few meters ahead of him. After what seemed like several minutes, they reached a door at the end of the hall. Harry was pushed through until he was in the middle of a large room- much larger than the one he'd been in before. It was about half the size of the Great Hall, except the ceiling was much lower and there were no tables filled with laughing students and mountains of food. Harry looked around fearfully and saw more Death Eaters, once again bordering the room along the walls- Lucius had stepped back to join them. They were talking to each other in low voices, but stopped immediately when the Dark Lord appeared, silently, at the front of the room. Harry gasped in shock, and a cold dread rose up inside him. _No, no, no!_ He took a step back, tears springing to his eyes again in seconds. Voldemort stared at him, lips curling upwards in a cruel smile. He didn't look angry like he had last time, but almost _happy._ Harry was smart enough to realise that this, in many ways, was worse. It took every bit of strength he had to stop his legs from crumbling under him.

'I presume this is your first duel, Harry Potter.'

 _Duel? What did he mean by duel?_ Harry looked up at him in fear, and Voldemort's smile widened.

'Ah. But you don't even have a wand yet, do you Harry? No matter.' He turned his cold eyes towards one of the Death Eaters, and Harry took in a great shuddering breath he hadn't realised he'd been holding. 'Rookwood! Bring me your wand!'

'My lord?'

'Your wand, Rookwood! Hurry!'

The Death Eater Rookwood rushed past Harry and bowed down to the Dark Lord, before handing him his wand with trembling hands. Voldemort held it up next to his face, fingering it.

'10 inches willow, dragon heartstring, quite rigid.' Voldemort spoke the words slowly, as though weighing out their significance. 'It will do.' He handed it back to Rookwood. 'Give it to the boy.'

'My- my lord?' whispered Rookwood for the second time.

'Do as I say!'

Rookwood turned around and stalked up to him. Harry took another step back, afraid, but the Death Eater only shoved his wand roughly in Harry's hands before practically running back to his spot in the line, as though afraid of what he'd do if he prolonged the task. Harry held the wand up with a shaking hand. He'd never used one before. Albus had let him play with his a few times, and he remembered hiding it somewhere when he was five as part of a 'game', but he'd never been allowed to cast a spell, or even knew any at all save for the ones he always heard Albus and Minerva and some of the other teachers use. He wanted to learn magic, badly, but everyone kept telling him to wait until he was eleven and promising that he'd go to Ollivander's to get his wand like all the other first-years when it was time.

The Dark Lord's gaze bored into Harry's head and he felt the same horrible sensation he'd felt the night before, like a sharp pain in the back of his head.

'No,' he whimpered. 'Please. . .'

Voldemort smiled again.

'Now, Harry. We bow to each other.' Voldemort leant forwards, but didn't take his eyes off him. Harry shook in his shoes and considered obeying, but he remained still and unresponsive.

'I said _bow._ ' Voldemort inclined his wand and Harry felt his back bend all the way forwards- he tried to resist, tried to move, but he was utterly powerless. The Death Eaters laughed behind him. After a few moments, Voldemort lifted the spell and Harry was able to right himself.

'We duel.'

The first curse hit him before Harry even had time to register that Voldemort had moved. The world exploded with pain as he was hit with The Cruciatus Curse for the second time in his life, and there was nothing he could do except drop to the ground and scream until it ended fifteen seconds later.

Harry's ears were ringing. The room swam in colours of red and black as the aftermaths of the spell burned through his body like fire.

'Please, no more, please-' he sobbed, but Voldemort raised his wand again.

Harry shot to his feet with a strength he didn't even know he had as all the nerves in his body screamed in protest. He stumbled- dizzy- into the wall of Death Eaters, and they pushed him back into the middle. He had dropped Rookwood's wand while he was on the floor, but it didn't matter- it was as useless to him as a stick. Voldemort shot a curse at him again, and Harry gasped. It felt as though hundreds of little shards of glass were in his stomach and lungs. Harry couldn't breathe- his chest screamed in pain if he moved. He fell back to the ground, fighting for breath. After half a minute of agony, Voldemort ended the pain. His red eyes were gleaming. Harry took a shaky breath and tried to curl up into a ball to protect himself- anything- but the Dark Lord had other ideas. With a wave of his free hand, Harry was lifted up into the air so that he was floating upright- tears streamed down his face and blurred his vision so that he was looking at Voldemort's face through a curtain of water. Then he was slammed back into the ground. His hand smashed into the stone floor and he felt an excruciating pain in his wrist. All of a sudden the ground was burning and Harry was screaming again, trying to get off, trying to get up, but he couldn't. When the spell finally ended, Harry lay on the ground unmoving.

He heard Voldemort take a few steps closer to him and instinctively brought up his hands to cover his face and his tears.

'Please d-don't! Please no-oh,' Harry bubbled. 'Please, no-oh m-more-' his cry was cut off by another raw scream as _The Cruciatus_ hit him again, and Harry lost all sense of time. It went on forever, and all he was conscious of was the pain- the unbearable pain all through his body- until he passed out.

* * *

A/N: Please review!

The next chapter will show more of what is going on at Hogwarts.


	7. Chapter 7: Snape

**Disclaimer: I am not J.K Rowling**

* * *

 **Chapter Seven: Snape**

Severus Snape was more scared than he'd been in a long, long time.

He had not expected, when he was called to Dumbledore's office several hours previously, to be told that the Potter boy had been kidnapped the night before and that the Dark Lord had risen to his full strength and regrouped his Death Eaters- or the ones left, anyway. But he supposed it was a good thing that he was at least given a short warning in advance before the dark mark on his arm- the mark that hadn't bothered him for the past eight years- began burning. He had known, without even being told by Dumbledore, that he was going to have to answer the call and apparate to an unknown location into the waiting arms of the Dark Lord. But he was still not prepared for _this._ He was still not prepared to face what lay behind the door in front of him. He was still not prepared to face-

'Enter.' The cold voice of Lord Voldemort spoke. Snape swallowed thickly and steeled himself, stepping into the room slowly. The Dark Lord was sitting at a large wooden desk, hands fingering his thin, bone-like wand. His red eyes turned to Snape as he got closer, moving hesitantly towards the empty chair in front of the desk.

'Severus, you have come.'

'My lord-'

' _Crucio!'_

Snape dropped to the ground, writhing and twisting, but he did not scream. After a few seconds Voldemort lifted the curse and Snape managed to right himself so that he didn't look as pathetic as he knew Voldemort had intended, panting.

'Explain yourself,' the Dark Lord hissed.

And so Snape did. He told him how he had continued his role as a spy, managing to escape a sentence in Azkaban thanks to Dumbledore, while secretly storing useful information at the back of his mind- ready to give up to the Dark Lord when he returned- because Snape _knew_ his master would return someday.

'My Lord, this whole time I have been spying for you- serving you! I have always remained faithful! I knew you would want information when you came back to us!'

There was no mistaking the pain in the corners of his mind that followed soon after. Snape dropped to his knees again and grit his teeth as the mental onslaught continued. Images of the past eight years flashed across his field of vision. He offered no resistance, letting Voldemort tear through his memories, knowing he had nothing to hide. After a few more minutes he felt Voldemort slipping out, and managed to stand up for a few seconds before collapsing into the chair in front of the desk.

Voldemort chuckled. 'I see you have served me well, Severus.'

'Th-thank you, my lord. . .'

'You will return here tomorrow when I call you.' Voldemort said, and it was not a request.

'Of- of course-' Snape hastily got up and bowed. He walked slowly towards the door before hesitating. 'Forgive me, my lord, forgive me- but- what services will you be requiring me for?'

Voldemort didn't say anything for a few seconds. Then he smiled. 'I have a guest staying here with us for now. Rumours say he is nearly as famous as I am. You may have heard of him before.'

 _Potter._

'My lord?'

'You will see him tomorrow, Severus,' said Voldemort, and the unspoken dismissal wasn't missed.

'I- I look forward to it.' Snape said curtly, turning away.

'And Severus,' the Dark Lord finished. 'Don't be late.'

* * *

Albus Dumbledore buried his face in his hands.

What had he done. . . what had he done? He'd let Voldemort take Harry, let him take the child so loved by them all without realising that the wards around the castle had been temporarily breached to allow the Death Eaters- or whoever had been sent to capture Harry- through. . . Albus was sure by now that Harry wasn't dead- he knew Tom would parade around the fact that he'd murdered The-Boy-Who-Lived, Saviour of the Wizarding World, _a nine-year-old boy._ But if Tom had chosen not to kill Harry. . . Albus hated himself. He hated himself for everything he had done, hated himself for not preventing this, for not realising, for letting the boy he cared about most in the whole world be taken from him. And it had only been a day since Harry's kidnapping. . . only one day. . .

'I'm sorry- Lily, James. . . I'm so so sorry, Harry. . .'

He'd acted quickly after the Daily Prophet article, sending out the most trusted former members of the Order of the Phoenix out to search for Harry. He'd told them all that Death Eaters had kidnapped him, and that he believed Voldemort was behind it.

But it was not enough, and it was all his fault. . .

There was a loud knock on the door.

Albus brought his hands down quick, unaware of the tears in his eyes.

'Come in?'

Severus Snape stormed through the door, face pale, and Albus felt a brief flicker of relief that everything had gone well- that Voldemort hadn't decided Severus was no longer of use to him, or chosen to punish him for not attempting to search for him in all the years after Harry had defeated him.

'They- they have him!' Snape was breathing harshly, and seemed to have run the whole way there from the edge of the grounds. 'He wants me to- to participate!'

Albus was silent, watching Severus as he took a few shaky steps towards a chair and sat down heavily.

'You are hurt.'

'It's nothing,' Snape growled. 'I've been through it before.'

'Severus-'

'I'm fine, Dumbledore!' Snape took a deep breath and continued. 'He will call me, tomorrow. I'll have to go. There is no way to avoid this, is there?'

Albus bowed his head. The room was silent for a few minutes, before the old wizard spoke again. 'I'm sorry, Severus,' he said, voice heavy. 'Do you know where they are?'

Snape hesitated. 'No. It seems familiar- but I cannot work out the exact position. It is possible that it is Malfoy Manor, but Lucius might not want to risk being discovered by the Aurors, and he has his son there.'

Albus nodded.

'I'll try to find out more when- when I go tomorrow.'

'Thank you, Severus.'

* * *

A/N: The Ministry, for now, is unaware that Harry is missing, and Dumbledore intends to keep it that way. His highest priority is to find Harry and rescue him, and he doesn't want the Ministry or any journalists to find out what is going on. He also doesn't want to spark panic, or push Voldemort into hiding away at a location even harder to find/reach.

Please review :)


	8. Chapter 8: Hurting

**Disclaimer: Harry Potter is not mine**

* * *

 **Chapter Eight: Hurting**

When Harry next woke it took him several seconds to work out where he was- though the realisation hit him quicker than before as the memories of everything that had happened rushed back to the forefront of his mind, erasing the dreams he had woken up from. The first thing he noticed was that he was alone. The second thing he noticed was that he was lying on his back on a cold table, arms spread out to his sides.

Harry tried to sit up, but his muscles immediately screamed in protest and he found that he was tied down once again. His entire body burned with the aftermath of the Cruciatus Curse, and his brain was numb with shock and disbelief. Just the thought of the pain from before was enough to have Harry trying desperately to stop the hot tears that threatened to spill from his eyes. And the _fear._

He had never been so afraid. He wanted to go home, he wished more than anything that someone would come and help him- that he would once again be safe. He wanted nothing more than to crawl into Albus's lap and have him hold him until he fell asleep, like a baby. He wanted nothing but to feel protected and safe again, far away from Voldemort and the Death Eaters. . .

But he wasn't safe, was he? He would never be safe. No one would rescue him because nobody knew where he was- Harry realised that now. _Did they even know he was gone?_ So he would stay and they would continue hurting him and hurting him forever because he would never die. They didn't want him to die. They liked hurting him too much.

Harry heard the door opening slowly and squeezed his eyes together tightly, trying to block out the sound of footsteps walking to the side of the table, his whole body shaking and trembling.

'Look at me,' whispered the cold voice of Voldemort. Harry's chest tightened at the sound and he gave a loud sob. _He didn't want to open his eyes, he didn't want to see. . ._

Yet he did after a few seconds, trying to see through his tears. The shape of The Dark Lord came into focus and Harry looked up into his gleaming red eyes. Voldemort held the gaze, causing Harry's scar to burn painfully, and didn't say anything. The sick feeling in Harry's stomach increased. Voldemort looked him over intently, smiling as Harry's chest rose up and down quickly.

'How _fascinating_ you are to me, Harry,' whispered Voldemort. 'How could a child- a child weaker even than you are now- ever defeat me? You were a baby, Harry. A fifteen-month-old infant, yet you brought me down. Yet you banished me and forced me to lay in hiding for over eight years as I tried to recover my strength.'

Harry was shaking his head, lips trembling as he pressed them together, breathing heavily. A second later felt Voldemort's hand on his face: The Dark Lord gripped his chin and pushed Harry's head so that Harry was once again facing him. He placed his long fingers on Harry's cheeks, stroking away his wet tears. Harry watched wide-eyed as Voldemort moved his hand up to Harry's forehead and brushed a finger lightly across his scar. Harry gave a small whimper and shut his eyes tightly again, lips trembling. Voldemort brushed his finger back across the scar again, and Harry clenched his teeth together to stop himself from crying out.

'What is the power I know not?' hissed Voldemort, staring hard at Harry's face. He paused, finger raised slightly above Harry's skin. Then, slowly, he lowered it down and pressed it firmly against the scar. Harry gave a gasp and tears spilled out of his closed eyes. He tried to keep himself from crying, but the sob threatening to spill out bubbled up inside him, and when Voldemort pressed his entire hand against Harry's forehead, he cried out in pain- whole body shaking. His head felt like it was about to split open, the burning so intense he could no longer take it.

'Stop!' Harry cried. 'Please, stop!'

Voldemort removed his hand and immediately the pain ceased. Harry struggled to control his breathing and stop the tears spilling down his face- he gave another sob. Voldemort stared at him for a few seconds before pressing his hand back down on Harry's forehead. This time the pain was stronger and sharper than before, and Harry cried out again. _Please, he couldn't take it anymore! It hurt so much- so much! Why! What had he done! He couldn't bear it any longer!_

The pain intensified to a breaking point and this time a scream was ripped raw from Harry's throat. He screamed through his sobbing again and thrashed against his bounds, trying desperately to claw free- to push Voldemort's hand away from his head. _Please, please, please just let me go, please. . ._ Harry struggled harder, trying to kick his legs, but they were tied down just as tightly as the rest of him, if not more so.

It felt like forever until Voldemort finally removed his hand from Harry's head and ceased the pain. Harry was dimly aware of Voldemort raising his wand and removing the bonds wrapped around him, but was too weak to try and jump off the table and run. Even if Harry had had the strength to move, he would never have tried. They'd only take him again, he'd only feel more pain. Instead, Harry scrunched up his face and curled up into a ball, sobbing.

The Dark Lord didn't try and stop him. He simply stood next to the table and watched for several minutes before finally exiting the room, the door closing with a loud thump behind him.

* * *

Harry didn't know how long he lay there, curled up into his tight ball- holding his knees with his arms- but he must have drifted off to sleep at some point once more because he woke again with a start a little while later. He sat up slowly, still on top of the table, and looked tiredly around the room- rubbing his red eyes. Voldemort hadn't come back- he was still alone. It was then that Harry became conscious of how hungry and thirsty he was, despite everything else. He hadn't eaten for over 24 hours, and his stomach and throat were starting to hurt, especially his throat. Harry didn't know what to do, whether he should move off the table or not. In the end he decided to try and make his way towards the door. He moved his legs over the side and slid down to the floor, but immediately felt dizzy when he tried to stand up. The stone was cold on his feet, even with shoes on. His body trembled as he slowly made his way to the door on the other side of the room. When he reached it, he hesitantly pulled the handle and opened it.

'Potter!'

Harry gave a scream in fright as the two Death Eaters standing outside the door whirled around to face him. He took a few steps back before tripping and falling- sending pain shooting all up his back. He cried out.

The Death Eaters stared at him for a split second, then one of them reached out and pulled him off the floor by the arm.

'Trying to escape, eh?' yelled the man, shaking Harry roughly. 'Thought you could make a break to freedom?'

Harry realised he was crying again. 'N-n-n-no-oh! D-d-don't h-hurt m-me, p-p-please!'

'Shut up!' growled the other Death Eater, jabbing his wand in Harry's direction. 'The Dark Lord is at a meeting- he won't be happy about this!'

'I-I-I'm s-s-sorry!' sobbed Harry. 'P-p-please, l-let me g-go!'

The Death Eaters ignored him and began muttering under their breaths- they seemed to be trying to hurriedly decide something. Then the man started to drag Harry down the corridor.

'. . .We'll take him to the Dark Lord. The boy tried to escape, he deserves to be punished for it.'

Several long minutes later- in which Harry clung to the Death Eater's arm and tried not to drag his feet along the rough stone beneath him- they reached another wooden door. Voices could be heard behind it. One of the Death Eaters knocked, then pushed the door open. He seemed nervous.

The room was filled with people- more Death Eaters- all of them sitting at a long, elegant table in the middle of the room. A fire was crackling at the other end, sending flickers of yellow light dancing off the shiny tabletop and illuminating the Death Eater's faces. Harry looked up, and caught sight of a pale figure standing in front of the fire- Voldemort.

'N-n-no-oh!' Harry cried, trying to pull back. _Not again, not so soon. . ._ He had known of course, that _He_ would be there, but _seeing_ was a whole different thing. 'N-n-no-oh-' The Death Eaters shoved him forwards and led him up to the Dark Lord. Everyone stared at them as they walked past. The Death Eater not holding Harry bowed down when they reached him. Voldemort looked murderous.

'Give me a reason why I shouldn't kill you right now,' he hissed coldly.

'My lord,' the man murmured hastily. 'Forgive us- forgive me- but Potter woke up and tried to escape. He was heading out the door when we caught him.'

'Potter tried to escape.' repeated Voldemort slowly, his red eyes falling on the boy in question. Harry turned his head, chin trembling.

'Yes, my lord,' the Death Eater was sweating.

Voldemort stared at him dangerously.

'Perhaps Potter would like to explain why he was escaping then,' he said quietly, but there was a dangerous tone to his voice.

Harry squeezed his eyes shut. '-m-m-m t-th-thirsty-' he whispered through his sobs. He didn't want to talk- didn't want to talk to Voldemort, but his mouth seemed to be acting on its own. His throat was really starting to hurt badly. '-p-p-please-'

The Death Eaters sitting around the table tittered, but Voldemort raised a hand to silence them. The noise ceased instantly as though a spell had been cast, and Voldemort waved his wand. A wooden goblet appeared in his hand, and he placed it on the table in front of Harry.

'Drink.' he ordered coldly.

Harry stared at the goblet in shock. _Water? V-Voldemort was giving him water?_ His body longed to grasp the goblet and down the liquid at once- _he was so very thirsty_ \- but a small part of his mind was weary. He could feel Voldemort's stare burning into the back of his head.

' _Drink.'_ The Dark Lord repeated, and Harry felt his legs move forwards against his will, and his arms reached out and picked up the drink. With trembling fingers- aware that the whole room was watching him- Harry lifted the goblet to his mouth and took a sip. It- it tasted like water. It _was_ water. He didn't understand, he didn't understand why. Voldemort had _hurt_ him, Voldemort was _evil-_

The burning started in his throat and went all the way down his body until it reached his stomach. Harry let out a strangled cry and fell backwards, clutching his chest and dropping the goblet. It was like acid- like a fire had been started beneath his skin. Tears streamed down his face and he cried out again, bringing his knees up to his waist as he rolled and writhed on the floor. A few seconds later he was dimly aware that the burning feeling was disappearing, but he was in such shock that it took him a second to realise. The Death Eaters were jeering- some had stood up from their chairs to get a better look at him. Harry was soaked in sweat, his body hot and shaking. Somebody lifted him up off the floor and pushed him into a wooden chair, forcing his arms behind his back. Harry squirmed and tried to free his arms, but he stayed on the chair as though glued. He was bound again, Harry realised, and he couldn't escape.

Voldemort stood in front of him. He grabbed Harry's chin roughly with his hand and pushed it up so that Harry was forced to look into his eyes.

The next thing happened very quickly. Harry noticed that sharp, intense pain in the back of his head that had happened before and then he felt somebody entering his mind. He could not explain it- he didn't know what was going on. All he knew was that it _hurt._ It hurt _so badly._ Voldemort ripped through his mind, tearing through Harry's memories as they flashed past his eyes with as much violence as possible:

 _He was flying across The Black Lake on his broomstick, feeling the wind in his hair as his feet brushed the surface of the water; he was talking with Aunt Minnie after class had ended because he wanted to ask her something important; Hagrid was chasing after him around the giant pumpkins as Fang ran around them in circles, barking merrily; it was Christmas, and Albus was pulling a cracker with Professor Sprout as he watched on; he and Albus and Aunt Minnie were walking through Hogsmeade, and he reached out towards the bright windows of Honeydukes; he was turning six, and someone had made him a large blue birthday cake; a group of first years were being sorted as he looked on curiously from the Head table; he was bounding down the front steps, singing about giant spiders, and then he was being dragged through the Forbidden Forest by dark-robed figures; he was twisting on the ground, screaming and crying as the cruciatus curse coursed through his body. . ._

Harry didn't realise he was crying until he felt Voldemort slip out of his mind and everything returned: everything with the room and the table and all the Death Eaters and _Voldemort Voldemort Voldemort_ standing over him, raising his wand again. . .

The world went black.

* * *

A/N: Please review :)


	9. Chapter 9: Torture

**Disclaimer: I am not JK Rowling**

A/N: I will be going overseas for 3 weeks in a few days. I am not sure how much access to the internet I am going to have, but I will try hard to continue the current schedule :)

* * *

 **Chapter Nine: Torture**

When he next came around, Harry knew he had been out for a long time. Everything felt different- his entire body ached with pain even though he wasn't moving, his head felt like it had exploded, and he could feel the dry tracks his tears had left on his cheeks. He was dimly aware that he was lying down on a cold surface again- the table, it must be the table- but everything else felt numb and strange, as if he weren't really a part of his body.

Loud voices drifted towards him and- as expected- the door across the room opened and three Death Eaters came into the room. Fear clenched at Harry's heart. _No! No more. . . please no more. . . no! He couldn't take it anymore. . . not again. . ._

He didn't recognise any of them, but the third man sent a cold wave of panic sweeping through him, though he didn't know why. The first two Death Eaters came up to the table and before Harry could brace himself had grabbed him violently and pushed him off it and into a standing position. Harry swayed on the spot as the corners of his vision began to go dark. The Death Eaters loosened their hold for a second and Harry felt himself stumbling forwards before he collapsed on the floor, but had barely a second to regain his breath before the two Death Eaters had yanked him up by the hair and bent his arms behind his back, causing his wrist to twinge painfully. The room spun around Harry and he forced himself to focus on the third Death Eater, who had just taken a step towards him and was standing directly in his field of vision. The Death Eaters held him up off the ground so that Harry's face was level with that of the man's.

'Try anythin', Potter, and I'll rip your limbs off bit by bit with my teeth.' He snarled, showing rows and rows of sharp fangs stained yellow. He breathed into Harry's face, and Harry got a strong stench of blood and sweat. He quickly turned his head away, lips trembling, and tried hard not to be sick.

'Fresh, young meat,' said the wizard. He brought up a long finger and stroked the side of Harry's cheek. 'Perhaps the Dark Lord will allow me some pleasure after we're done.' He brought his hand down quickly across Harry's chest, digging his dirty nails into his clothes. Harry cried out.

'Now, now. Remember our orders, Greyback,' said one of the Death Eaters holding Harry. 'We're already running late. You can have this one-' he shook Harry forcefully, '-during your little session.'

Greyback snarled. 'Pah, Yaxley. The Dark Lord has forbidden me to have a turn. He knows how. . . _loving. . ._ I can be around children.' He turned around and strode towards the door. The Death Eaters holding Harry- Yaxley and the other- shoved him forwards and forced him to walk in front of them, hands still tied behind his back. Harry was too weak to fight them.

They walked through a long corridor Harry had never seen before. The walls were bare but for a long row of burning torches on either side. They moved in silence, Greyback leading the way a few steps ahead of them, until they reached a large door at the end of the corridor. Greyback held the door open and Harry tried to plant his feet on the ground, but he was almost effortlessly pushed through. His eyes widened in terror.

The large room was brightly lit with more flaming torches, and waiting quietly- side by side- were no less than twenty Death Eaters, all of them lining the walls. In front of Harry, against the main wall next to the door and perched on a giant throne-like chair, was Lord Voldemort. Harry hadn't realised his shaking had stopped as they walked through the corridor, but it had now begun in full force again. Greyback led the way so that they were all standing in front of Voldemort and bowed down, nearly touching the floor. Harry's legs buckled underneath him, and it was only the strong grip the Death Eaters had on him that kept him held upright.

'Master,' Greyback rasped. 'We have him.' He shuffled to the side, letting Voldemort have a clear view of Harry, hanging in the Death Eaters' arms. The Dark Lord looked directly at Harry, a cruel smile spreading across his lips. Harry turned his head away, tears already starting to fall. He could feel the red eyes burning into him. Voldemort waved Greyback aside with his wand.

'Very well. Stand with the others, Greyback.' he said, and the werewolf backed up hastily until he was against the wall, on the left side of Voldemort- who turned to the two Death Eaters holding Harry up. 'Bind him.'

The Death Eaters swivelled around and dragged Harry towards the opposite end of the room, across from Voldemort. Harry, who knew where this was going, struggled to break free despite the incredible exhaustion his body felt, but they held on tightly and shoved him against the wall. Less than a minute later, Harry was once again hanging several feet off the floor, pressed against the stone; except this time his legs were free to move. Even so, Harry didn't dare kick out. The Death Eaters bowed to Voldemort and went to join their comrades lining the room.

Voldemort stood up from his chair and observed the room. Harry, feeling his gaze again, looked up- eyes brimming with tears. Voldemort smiled at him.

'Hello again, Harry.' he hissed. Harry began shaking even more. Memories of the previous pain flashed through his mind and he let out a loud sob.

'Please, n-not again, noh-oww-'

The Dark Lord laughed softly, then turned to address his servants.

* * *

Snape swallowed thickly- trying to brace himself for what he was about to see and do- before quickly raising his arm and knocking loudly on the large door in front of him. It swung open unassisted and he stepped in confidently, though he felt the complete opposite. The room was large and filled with Death Eaters- all of whom stared at him as he entered. The Dark Lord himself was standing in the middle of the room, holding his wand with two hands. He stared at Snape, a cruel smile playing on his lips.

'Severus,' he whispered softly. 'So glad you could make it.' Voldemort's snake-like eyes gleamed in the light. Snape strode briskly towards him and bowed down at his feet.

'My lord,' he acknowledged curtly.

Voldemort nodded, and it was then that Snape saw the small figure hanging on the wall behind the Dark Lord- eyes open wide in fright as tears poured down his face. Snape forced himself to turn away, then stood up and took place in the row of Death Eaters as Voldemort began speaking. The first torture began soon after, and Snape watched in masked horror- keeping to the shadows- as his fellow servants shot spell after spell at the child. He didn't know what exactly he had expected- perhaps some part of him had hoped that the men and women who murdered whole families in cold blood would have second thoughts about torturing a child not even old enough for Hogwarts yet- but not _this_. Snape put up all the mental barriers he could muster- shut himself away from the world, became more distant and distant- until the screams of Harry Potter were but a wind in the distance.

In the room, Harry screamed. He cried- _begged-_ then screamed some more. Most of the Death Eaters used C _rucio-_ a word he had come to recognise now, a word that scared him more than anything else in the world. Bellatrix seemed to get a sickening pleasure every time she yelled out that curse, not that Harry was in any state to notice. Some used other spells, however, spells not even Snape had heard before but made Harry cry just as much as _The Cruciatus._ After nearly ten minutes of 'fun', Snape knew it was his turn. Voldemort was staring at him, and Snape looked up confidently and walked into the middle of the room.

He'd strongly disliked Harry Potter for most of his existence, despised him for what his father had done, for what he represented. But now, seeing him like this. . . _Nobody_ deserved that. No _child_ deserved that, not even the son of James Potter.

'You must be familiar with the boy,' Voldemort spoke softly. 'After all, you watched him grow up at the castle.'

Snape frowned. 'Yes,' he said shortly. 'I watched him grow up. But I can assure you, my lord, I feel nothing close to what that old fool thinks of him. To me, he was just a silly child intent on causing harm and disturbance to those far superior to him.' Snape let a few memories of him yelling and glaring at Potter flicker over the surface of his mind. He regretted all that now- of course- but Voldemort would never know that.

'Especially Dumbledore.' The Dark Lord's lips parted into a half sneer.

'Yes, my lord.' Snape allowed a few more memories come to mind and then turned to face the boy in question. He took several steps forward, until he was standing three feet from Harry. The boy was sobbing quietly, and looked up with those bright green eyes of his when he heard him approaching. Snape had to use up all of his self-control not to look away.

'Potter,' he forced himself to spit out.

Harry peered up at him fearfully, and his eyes dawned in silent recognition.

'Pr-pro-professor?' there was a tiny hint of hope in the boy's voice, and Snape had never hated himself more than in that moment for what he was about to do.

' _Crucio.'_

And then the boy was screaming, thrashing against the wall, and it was all _Severus's fault, Severus's fault, Severus's fault. . ._

The remains of the curse tasted bitter on Snape's lips. He'd used it a few times in the past, but a child was a whole different matter, and each time he'd cast it before he'd felt as though a small part of him died inside.

There was no time to think about it now. Snape walked back to his spot and the show continued. It wasn't until over five more minutes later- after the boy had fallen unconscious several times and then roughly awakened to more pain- that Voldemort announced they could all leave and return later that night. Snape hurried out of the room, bowing as he passed the Dark Lord, and disapparated as quickly as he could.

* * *

He arrived with a crack outside the gates of Hogwarts. Dumbledore was waiting for him, standing silently next to the dirt path leading up from Hogsmeade station.

'Severus-' the man began, but Snape ignored him and went straight to a nearby bush, where he began retching. When he turned back around, he was shaking.

'Albus, he has her eyes, Lily's eyes. . .' Severus was muttering and shaking his head, his brow glistened with sweat.

'Severus-'

'I-can't-do-this-anymore,' Snape's voice broke. 'The Dark Lord. . . Lily's son . . .'

If Albus thought something of Snape suddenly seeming to care about Harry, he said nothing of it. In fact, it looked like the old Headmaster was trying hard not to break down himself.

'What- what did they do- to him?' Albus's voice was filled with more sadness than Snape had ever heard. 'Crucio?'

Snape swallowed and nodded. 'I- I only saw what they did while I was there- what- what _I_ did. I do not know what- what else they- _he-_ might have done before. . . Bellatrix- she was laughing! _Laughing_ as she tortured him! Lily's son!'

Dumbledore was silent, but although the Headmaster didn't speak, Severus didn't miss the lone tear that slid down the old man's cheek.

* * *

Sometime later, they were all seated around a large table Dumbledore had conjured in the middle of his office to accommodate the extra people; which included the Order members that had been trying to find Harry: Minerva, Alastor Moody, and Kingsley Shacklebolt.

'Severus has managed to learn for us where Harry is being kept.' Dumbledore told the assembled group. 'Voldemort is holding his group at Malfoy Manor, despite the doubts we had before of this.'

There was silence at this. The members sitting around the table glanced at each other. Snape remained quiet and impassive, staring straight ahead. Then Minerva spoke:

'You will be going tonight.' she stated, voice trembling, and it was not a question.

'Yes.' Albus nodded. 'As soon as we can. Although the wards around Malfoy Manor are strong, I am confident we will be able to break through them and rescue Harry. He cannot be there any longer. Now. . .' Dumbledore continued to speak, giving them all a detailed plan he had come up with and discussing what the best course of action would be. When the meeting had finished, the group stood up and made their way out the door of the office, preparing themselves to apparate away. They were going to fight.

400 miles away, Harry screamed.

* * *

Please review :)


	10. Chapter 10: Safe

**Disclaimer: Harry Potter isn't mine**

* * *

 **Chapter Ten: Safe**

His body convulsed and vomit spilt all down his chest as the last _crucio_ ended, but not a second later he was getting bombarded by curses again. His entire body was cut up: there were two large bleeding gashes near his ribs that had been caused by somebody- it didn't matter who anymore- and his skin was littered with cuts and bruises. Every time he passed out they would revive him again so that the pain could continue. There was always pain. Every inch of him hurt, even parts of his body that he didn't even know could feel anything: the space between his fingers, his eyelids, the bit between his neck and hairline. Harry's throat was raw from all the times he had screamed, yet he still managed to continue. His eyes were glued shut by dried salt, yet the tears continued to fall.

' _Porexa!'_

Intense, over-consuming pain all through his lungs; like sharp shards of glass puncturing the space between his ribs. Harry twitched and writhed in agony, screaming and crying, but it never ended. . . it just continued and continued, forever and ever until he succumbed to unconsciousness for the countless time that night.

'Stop,' ordered Voldemort as one of the Death Eaters raised their wand to wake him up again. A strange, unreadable expression flashed across his pale features. The Death Eaters were all still, holding their breaths. Then suddenly-

 _BANG!_

The room exploded.

* * *

Albus led them through the corridors. It was incredible, but they'd made it this far without alerting anyone that the wards had been breached. They'd left Hogwarts less than an hour beforehand, and already they were inside the Manor, prepared to strike. The group of people behind him slowed down when he stopped in front of a large wooden door. Albus didn't need to speak. Everybody knew what they had to do. He merely turned around, nodded, then raised his wand and pointed it at the door.

 _BANG!_

They rushed into the room, immediately stunning the Death Eaters they saw. Most of them had been too slow to take out their wands, and a few had been knocked out by the explosion and lay sprawled on the floor. Dumbledore immediately sought out Voldemort, who was standing in the centre of the room, a furious expression on his face. A bolt of green light shot towards him and he dodged it easily. The noise around them was deafening, but Dumbledore forced himself to focus on his foe. Another spell shot towards him, and Dumbledore brought up the strongest shield he could muster. The yellow coloured light slammed into it and smoke filled the air.

Kingsley Shacklebolt made his way through the masses of fighting witches and wizards, avoiding stray spells and trying to remain unnoticed. It wasn't his job to fight, that would be another day. Now he had to find Harry Potter as quickly as he could and take him back to Hogwarts before He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named caught on and realised what they were trying to do. He dodged a red stream of light that passed dangerously close to his head and saw that Dumbledore was dueling The Dark Lord: A way to distract him from the real reason they had all stormed the manor.

Kingsley spotted a small figure hanging from the wall. His heart clenched as he reached the boy and hurriedly released the bonds holding him up. The child started to drop, and Kingsley scooped him up in his arms. Harry Potter was limp, blissfully unconscious, and he was shocked at how light the boy was. It had only been three days, and yet it felt like the child hadn't eaten in over a week. The sound of a loud crack filled the air, and Kingsley knew the anti-apparition wards had fallen. Gripping onto the child in his arms tightly, Kingsley disapparated.

* * *

He nearly slipped on the wet grass as he landed, but managed to stay balanced enough to right himself before beginning the long stride up to the castle. Dawn was fast approaching. Breathing heavily, hardly pausing to think about the fact that he'd made it and that they were safe, Kingsley conjured a floating stretcher with his wand and lowered Harry down onto it. He hurried up the front steps and down the first-floor corridor, keeping the stretcher ahead of him until he reached the Hospital Wing. The doors automatically opened and he rushed in.

Poppy Pomfrey was waiting, and expecting Harry to arrive. Albus had appeared in her office hours earlier and hurriedly explained to her that Harry Potter had been kidnapped by Death Eaters and would be arriving as soon as possible, leaving before she had even begun to process what he had said. But she was definitely not prepared to see the condition Harry was in. She gasped and brought her hands up to her mouth when she saw his limp form on the stretcher.

'I'm sorry,' Kingsley said after a short pause. 'But I must go. Dumbledore-'

'It's fine, thank you.' Madam Pomfrey said, gently raising her wand and lowering Harry off the stretcher and onto a bed. She seemed to have regained control of her emotions and looked to be trying her hardest to maintain a professional manner. _Harry needed her_. Kingsley nodded goodbye and exited the wing.

Poppy had dealt with all manner of injuries in the past: broken bones, missing body parts, horrible colds, dragon pox, spell-caused deformities and disfigurements. They were inevitable in a school filled with magical teenagers. But not _this,_ never _this._ This- this was a nine-year-old boy! A nine-year-old boy that looked like he'd been tortured nearly to death! She knew Harry. She'd seen him when he'd first arrived at the castle as a baby, she's watched him grow up, they all had. . . He was always such a sweet little boy, always saying hello to her whenever they crossed paths. And to see him like _this_. . .

The door to the Hospital Wing opened once again and Madam Pomfrey looked up to see Albus stride in, closely followed by Minerva. Upon seeing Harry on the bed, Minerva froze for a few seconds before lowering herself down into a chair, clutching at her chest. Albus slowly approached the bed but didn't say anything as he sat down on another chair nearby.

Pomfrey turned her attention back to the poor child in front of her and flicked her wand so that his clothes disappeared, and then began muttering a string of surface-healing, stabilizing and diagnostic spells as she waved her wand over Harry's immobile form. It wasn't until five silent minutes later that she stopped with a small shiver.

'Oh, Albus.' she whispered. 'I don't know if I- if I can fix all of this-'

Albus looked up at her, then looked back at Harry. He had hardly taken his eyes off him since he had arrived. They were no longer filled with the familiar twinkle everyone had come to know, however.

'You can only try,' he said quietly.

'Albus! He has a broken wrist, four fractured ribs, two deep gashes on his chest along with multiple cuts and bruises all over his body, and he's been subjected to the _Cruciatus Curse_ more times in the last three days than most Aurors in their lifetime!' Tears streamed down Poppy's pale cheeks as she spoke.

Albus tried to say something, but the words seemed to get stuck in his throat. Poppy took a deep breath, as though steadying herself, then waved her wand over Harry. Slowly, as though being sucked up, every drop of dried blood, grime and sweat on his skin disappeared; leaving him clean where it not for the small cuts and bruises littering his body, and the deep gashes on his chest. Poppy turned to those next because they looked to be the worst.

It took several minutes before the gashes began to heal. Magically-induced cuts from dark spells were not the same as regular cuts, and ones this deep were even harder to close up. Once she had blocked them from bleeding again any time soon, Poppy moved to the smaller cuts. These were much easier, and only a few small scars remained. Harry would have to take a potion for the bruises, as well as many others. Hardly pausing to breathe, Poppy summoned a bunch of bottles from the storage cupboard and twisted around to face the Headmaster.

'Albus. . . I don't know how he might react in this state-'

'Do not worry, Poppy.' Dumbledore stood up and went over to Harry's side, slowly lifting up the boy's head. It felt so light, so _frail,_ that his hands trembled in shock, and an overwhelming sadness swept over him. Poppy unscrewed the blood-replenishing potion, which was the most urgent at the moment, and slowly poured it down Harry's throat. The boy shivered and moaned, but did not wake. Poppy roughly wiped the tears from her eyes and continued to give Harry the potions. The first one was followed by a dose of Skele-gro, pain-numbing and nourishment potions, a potion to slowly get rid of the bruises, and a calming draught. She would have done more if she could, but the rest had to be saved for when Harry woke, which would hopefully not be soon. The boy would not suffer any more than he had to, of that she was certain. Never would she knowingly put Harry through pain unless it was absolutely necessary to improving his health. She didn't usually give her students a pain-numbing potion, but Harry- _without a single shred of doubt-_ needed it more than any of Hogwarts' pupils ever had and ever would.

Poppy wrapped Harry's chest and right wrist with bandages and ensured that his health no longer hung on the line with a few more well-placed spells. There was nothing else to do now. Everything within her capabilities was done. Slowly, emotionally drained from all the spellwork and tired from everything that had happened that morning, Poppy magicked some light, soft pyjamas onto Harry and brought the sheets up to his shoulders before collapsing into the nearest chair with her head in her hands. For several minutes there was silence, and then she stood up at the same time as Minerva and they both embraced in a tight but shaky hug. They'd been friends for as long as she could remember, even though Poppy had been a year bellow Minerva at school. Albus watched them, unmoving. Then Minerva went up to Harry and brushed the hair out of his closed eyes, stroking his cold cheeks as she did so.

'I _can't_ believe it.' Was that really her voice? It was unrecognisable. Such was the sorrow shared between them. 'How could this happen, Albus? How could they _do_ this to him!'

No one had an answer to that. So the three adults sat. Sat on the hard chairs of the Hospital Wing as they waited for Harry- the child who had suffered so much more than every person in the room ever had, the child that had pulled through so much pain but was somehow still alive and breathing before them- to wake up.

* * *

A/N: Please review :)


	11. Chapter 11: News

**Disclaimer: I am not J.K Rowling**

* * *

 **Chapter Eleven: News**

The sun began to rise and early-morning light filtered through the windows several hours later, but not one of them had moved from their positions. Harry had stayed on the bed- immobile save for the small twitches and shudders he gave in his sleep. Minerva was positioned awkwardly in the chair, as she'd fallen asleep for a few minutes and slipped slightly down the seat; Poppy was sitting up straight, her eyes never leaving Harry's face; and Albus' head was down, looking at his hands.

The quiet and stillness was interrupted, however, as a man in black robes suddenly appeared in the Wing, knees buckling underneath him as he reached the assembled adults. Poppy immediately jumped to her feet and helped him into the nearest bed, across from where Harry slept, and Severus Snape collapsed weakly against the pillows, breathing harshly. Albus stood up and walked up to him, sitting down on another chair next to the bed frame.

'How bad was it?'

Severus stared at him, and if the situation hadn't been so grave, the Headmaster's question would have been mildly amusing.

'You have no idea,' he said dryly. 'He is-' Severus winced as Poppy handed him a strengthening potion and he incorporated himself to swallow it, '-furious that the boy has gotten away.' He suddenly remembered that the child in question was lying across from him and he immediately sat up straight.

'Albus, how is he-'

Albus didn't answer. It was Poppy who spoke.

'We do not know,' she said sadly. 'We do not know.'

Minerva sniffed behind her and wiped a tear from her cheek.

'I'm. . . sorry.' Severus tried to say.

'For what?' said Poppy. She suddenly looked angry. 'You did nothing you could not help, Severus Snape, and if anyone is to blame, it is those _bastards_ that did that- that did _this-_ to a nine year old boy!'

Severus hung his head, but said nothing for a few minutes.

'Has he. . . woken yet?'

'No,' Albus spoke. 'And I think that for now, it is better that he doesn't.'

* * *

A short while later, Poppy decided that they needed to eat something and prepared a small tray of breakfast and tea. None of the other Professors complained, and slowly ate their way through the food. Snape had regained enough of his energy to be able to walk around, and- upon Poppy's request- had agreed to go back to his quarters to brew several potions for Harry. Seconds after he'd passed through the doors of the Hospital Wing, Albus- too- stood up and declared that he should speak to the rest of the staff and let them know what would be happening over the next few days.

'Severus, Severus!'

The man in question turned around to see Albus running after him down the corridor, if that was even possible at his age.

'What is it, Headmaster?'

'Severus,' repeated Albus quietly. There was a short pause. 'I'm sorry, but I need- your memories- if you can. I need to know what happened. It is vital to Harry's well being.'

Snape stared at him. _His_ memories? The boy would wake up soon- surely Dumbledore didn't need the memories from _both_ of them?

'What about Po- _Harry_?'

It didn't seem right to call the boy by his surname after what had happened to him.

Albus sighed. 'Severus, I do not know in what state he will be when he wakes up. He's been through a terrible ordeal, and-'

'Fine.' Snape brought the tip of his wand to his temple and thought hard as he slowly extracted the memories of his meeting with Voldemort, and of the torture he had witnessed and committed himself.

'Thank-you, Severus.' Albus seemed very tired as he uncorked a flask and deposited Snape's memories inside, and Severus suddenly realised just how old the man was.

'It's the least I can do,' he said, voice low. Then he spun around- robes whipping around him- and strode off down the corridor.

Albus stared after him sadly, then started walking up to the Staff Room. He needed to speak to the rest of the Hogwarts teachers and let them know what had happened. They cared about Harry as well, and they had a right to know what was really going on- why Harry hadn't been seen for over three days. He would eventually have to tell the Minister as well, of course. Although Bagnold was rather sensible and had been Minister during the previous war, Albus wasn't looking forward to telling her that they may be about to start another.

The halls were empty of students, as it was still the summer holidays- they would be back in three weeks, on September 1st. The castle was completely silent and devoid of life, and Albus felt a pang of sadness. Harry should be there- running down the corridors and jumping down the staircases, but instead he was lying in a hospital bed, unconscious and barely alive.

He reached the Staff Room and opened the door. Although a lot of the teachers took a break and left Hogwarts during the mid-year holidays, everyone was always present in the last few weeks before term in order to prepare their classes and attend to other work. They looked up at him as he entered, waving and calling out _hello,_ but Dumbledore didn't smile.

'Is everything alright, Albus?' Professor Sinistra asked as Dumbledore lowered himself down into a red armchair by the dead fireplace. She was sitting at a desk, a book open in front of her.

'I am afraid it isn't,' Albus began quietly. There would be no delaying it, he would cut straight to the point. Everyone's focus had shifted to him- they listened with rapt attention. 'Several days ago, Harry was taken by Death Eaters from the grounds.'

There was a short pause, and then the room was filled with gasps and yells of shock and surprise.

'Death Eaters?' cried Professor Kettleburn, speaking for all of them. 'I thought Death Eaters were finished? You-Know-Who disappeared eight years ago, Albus!'

Albus bowed his head. 'Yes. Death Eaters, and they weren't acting alone. They were following orders.'

'You don't mean-?' began Professor Amildaf- the current Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher- catching on quickly.

'Voldemort has returned.'

The room burst into shouts and cries again:

'Returned?'

'Dear Merlin!'

'He was dead, though, wasn't he?'

'I knew he would come back someday, Charity, it was inevitable-'

'What is the meaning of this, Dumbledore?'

'You-Know-Who _cannot_ be back. . .'

'Unbelievable-'

'Silence!' Albus stood up, arms raised. 'Please. Let me explain. Voldemort was never gone. I have my. . . _theories. . ._ as to what happened that dreadful night eight years ago, but now is not the time to hear them. Voldemort has spent the last near-decade in hiding- too weak to carry on and attempt anything against the Wizarding World. His Death Eaters were caught and incarcerated, and the world returned to normal. We were lead to believe that all was safe, that the danger had passed. But he was never gone. This whole time he has been sitting under the surface, and now- after all these years- he has finally managed to return. Voldemort is strong again, and Harry has spent the last three days being tortured by him and his followers. We managed to rescue him early this morning, and he is currently unconscious in the Hospital Wing, under the care of Poppy.'

There was a stunned silence as everybody absorbed what he'd just told them.

'Please, I _beg_ you to listen. This is not a game. I have always suspected that Voldemort would one day return, and now he has.'

'He's really back?' said Professor Sprout, astonished.

'Yes.'

'And Harry?'

Albus nodded. 'He is in a terrible condition. Poppy did all she could, but we don't know how he will be when he wakes up. The _cruciatus. . .'_

'They used _crucio?'_ exclaimed Professor Flitwick. 'On a nine-year-old boy? Albus, that's-'

'I know,' Dumbledore's voice was thick. 'We suspect. . . it was more than once.' They _knew_ for certain it was more than once, but Albus didn't think everybody needed to know all the details.

'Good grief,' whispered Professor Vector.

Everyone bowed their heads, too stunned to speak, slowly trying to take in the multitude of information- slowly trying to take in the fact that He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named was back, and that Harry had been tortured by him. By _him-_ Lord Voldemort!

'You are certain then, Dumbledore?' asked Proffesor Sprout, after several minutes of silence.

'Yes, Pomona. I am afraid there is no doubt.'

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Please review, I really appreciate them :)


	12. Chapter 12: Light

Disclaimer: I am not JK Rowling

* * *

 **Chapter Twelve: Light**

They were once again sitting around Harry's bed in the Hospital Wing that afternoon; Minerva, Albus and Poppy. Severus had retreated to his quarters to begin brewing the necessary potions for Harry, and hadn't been seen for several hours. Poppy had cleaned Harry's wounds with a wet sponge, and once again checked his general health. But for most of the day, there had been little movement in the Wing. There were things to do, matters to take care of, but the three adults could not bring themselves to get up and do more than stretch, or pace around the room, or fetch something to eat. And worry.

'He needs to eat, Albus,' whispered Minerva, staring expressionlessly at the end of Harry's bed. 'I don't have to be a Healer to know he is malnourished and dehydrated.'

Albus sighed, though it was not in annoyance or impatience, but out of weariness. 'We have been through this before, Minerva,' he said gently. She shook her head.

'It's been _four days_ since he last had something!'

' _But_ there is nothing we can do until he wakes up.' It hurt Albus more than he could say to simply sit there and do nothing while Harry silently suffered, but there really was nothing he could to do make the situation better. They just had to wait.

Minerva sat up straighter in her seat and turned to face the one across from her. 'Poppy, you _know_ what state he is in-'

The Mediwitch looked up, hands tightening around the mug of tea she held in her lap. 'I'm sorry, Minerva. There is nothing I can do until he is conscious. You know-'

'Yes,' Minerva's voice wobbled. 'Yes, I know.'

She took in a deep, shuddering breath.

'I thought. . . I thought, despite everything, that they might have given him something to drink- anything to drink- while he was there. But they couldn't even- they couldn't even do _that!'_ Her voice had risen slightly, and there was a hysterical edge to her tone. Poppy reached out and placed a hand on Minerva's.

'I gave him some strengthening and vitamin potions this morning. We have done everything we can.'

'I know,' whispered Minerva again. 'I know.'

'We just need to wait for him to wake up.'

It would be another week before that day came.

* * *

Light. That's the first thing he noticed: something bright and white shone through his closed eyelids. He squirmed, and became conscious for the first time that he was lying on something soft and warm. _Warm._ Harry was _warm._ It was like a cloud- like a soft, fluffy cloud, and Harry wondered if he was dead. Maybe Voldemort had finally decided to kill him? If this was Heaven, it wasn't too bad. Except Harry could still feel his body aching, and his head still hurt. . . His chest was bare, but there was something odd wrapped around it. Ropes! The Death Eaters had tied him up again, he was still trapped!

'N-no-oh-oh!' The moan startled Albus, who had been sitting on a nearby chair, half asleep. He turned to look at Harry and saw that the boy was shaking violently underneath his covers, arms struggling to free himself. 'N-n-n-no! P-p-please!'

Albus immediately moved forwards so that he was right next to the bed. Harry was writhing around, moaning. An anguished cry slipped from his lips. Then suddenly he stopped, and his eyes shot wide open.

' _Harry,_ ' breathed Albus, upon seeing the child wake. ' _Harry, can you hear me_?'

Harry's mouth moved but didn't make a sound. His chest started shaking. Then he began sobbing. He opened his mouth and wailed.

'Harry, it's okay, you're safe now-' Albus began murmuring. He slid his arms under Harry's back and incorporated him, pressing him against his chest. 'You're at Hogwarts, you're safe, you're in the Hospital Wing, you're going to be okay. . .'

Poppy had come rushing out of her office with Minerva hot on her heels when they'd heard the commotion, but they were now frozen, staring at the scene in shock.

Harry sobbed harder. His arms reached out automatically and Albus hugged him tighter to his chest, stroking the child's hair as he continued to murmur soothing words, rocking back and forth on the bed. 'You're safe now, it's alright, you're home.'

'N-n-n-no-oh. . .' Harry's cry tore at Albus' heart. 'N-n-not s-s-safe. . . t-t-trick. . .'

'It's not a trick, Harry.' Albus' voice nearly broke. 'I promise you. You're at Hogwarts. You're home. No one is going to take you anymore.'

'No-oh!' Harry squeezed his eyes tightly and clenched his fists, tears pouring down his cheeks as his chest trembled with each cry. 'H-hu-hurts-'

'I know, Harry, I'm sorry. . .'

Harry didn't know what was going on. He was so confused. Albus was there- Albus was there hugging him and telling him it was safe, but he didn't know if it was true. It was impossible. He couldn't be safe. . . They were going to get him again. . . Voldemort was going to come in, and then he was going to hurt him. . .

'N-n-n-no! P-p-please. . . p-p-please n-n-no. . .' Harry folded into Albus's robes. He never wanted to let go, never. . . was he safe? Was he finally safe, here with Albus?

'A-A-Ab-bu-'

'Shhh, Harry.' whispered Dumbledore. 'It's alright, you don't have to speak. Everything is going to be okay now. I'll never let them take you again, I promise. You're safe.'

And Harry knew it was true. He began crying harder: the raw pain, the fear. . . it all came pouring out of him, and he clung onto Albus like a lifeline.

* * *

It was a while before Harry's crying finally subdued to soft sobs. Minerva took a step towards him and placed her hand on his shoulder. Harry visibly flinched- tensing up- but when realised who it was relaxed and turned his eyes towards her.

'Mm-m-mi-'

'Shhh, go to sleep now.' Minerva said softly. Harry's eyes and fists scrunched up and he gave a small whimper. Poppy got out a cup of Dreamless Sleep potion and brought it over.

'Here,' she lifted it gently up to Harry's mouth. At seeing the way his eyes widened and he pressed back, Poppy said quietly; 'it's alright Harry. We don't want to hurt you. This will help, I promise. It's a Dreamless Sleep potion.' Harry still looked fearful, so she took a small sip herself- not enough for it to have any effect- and smiled sadly. 'See? It's alright.'

Harry hesitated before he reached out and slowly took a sip. Within minutes he was fast asleep. Albus incorporated himself and lifted Harry into the bed.

'Now that he's out, I'll- it's best if I check him over again.' said Poppy. Albus nodded, and Poppy vanished Harry's wet pyjamas with a flick of her wand. The bandages wrapped around his chest were damp. She peeled them off as gently as she could, then tended to the gashes. They looked nearly the same as when Harry had arrived nearly week and a half earlier. The only difference was that they were a bit lighter in colour, perhaps, and no longer bleeding. After cleaning the wounds, Poppy produced a wet sponge and cleaned the rest of Harry's upper body, his chest and arms, and his face- which was red and caked with dry tears- before cleaning his feet and legs, careful when she brushed over the cuts and bruises still on his skin. Most of them had healed, but there was still a good number left. Poppy had a suspicion many of the cuts had been caused by magic, and it would take them much longer to heal. At least they weren't as big as the ones on his chest. His ribs were nearly better as well- they just needed a few more days of rest.

Poppy sat down on one of the other beds.

'I found the remains of some poisons in his system,' she said after a few minutes. 'They- they must've force-fed him. It would explain his reaction. . .' Poppy trailed off.

Minerva was shaking. She paused for a second, poised over her chair, then stood up and raced towards the door, storming through it and out into the corridor. Albus quickly followed her out, casting a silencing charm behind him so as not to disturb Harry.

'Those- those _bastards!_ '

'Minerva. . .' Albus began, but he was interrupted as she lost it.

'He's only a child, for Merlin's sake!' she screamed. 'They _tortured_ him! They-tortured-him! How could they do that to a child? He's only a boy-' she broke off with a sob as Dumbledore wrapped his arms around her and shook into his robes.

'Albus- oh, Albus- what have we _done_!'

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Please review, I really appreciate them! Constructive Criticism is also welcome :)


	13. Chapter 13: Memories

Disclaimer: I am not JK Rowling

A/N: Hello everyone! I am so so sorry for the delay! I was without internet for the last 2 weeks, and unfortunately, that meant I couldn't post this next chapter. Everything is resolved now, though, and chapters should still come at about 1 each week! On another note, I am finding it a bit hard to write at the moment, so I apologise if things are currently a little slow. I know where this story is going (there will definitely be a third part soon), but I am just finding it hard to get there. So please, bear with me :)

Hope you enjoy this chapter!

* * *

It was night. The full moon rose up high above Hogwarts, bathing every room throughout the castle in a soft, white light.

Over two weeks had passed since Harry had been rescued from Voldemort's clutches. Most of the time he'd been unconscious, his body unable to wake. But he was awake now, as awake as he had been several days previously, though not much had happened since then. Harry had had to get used to finally being safe and away from Voldemort and the Death Eaters, something which was still hard to believe. He had gotten out of bed and had a bath and walked around the Wing several times, but he was still too weak to spend more than a few hours moving about. And of course, although the true nightmare had ended, his dreams were still plagued by Voldemort and the memories of what had happened, and Harry had woken up in the middle of the night screaming himself hoarse and bathed in sweat until Poppy had begun giving him doses of Dreamless Sleep potion.

Harry was in bed now, though it was still rather early for him to be asleep. Minerva was going to read him a story first, just like she'd done before, when he was younger. He was nestled in her lap, head resting on her chest. And as she opened up the book and began to read in her gentle voice, Harry felt like a toddler again, when he'd sit in her lap and watch in fascination as she told him exciting adventures involving dragons and frogs and magical toadstools before bed.

This time, though, Harry wasn't paying attention to the story. He was just sitting there, feeling- even if only for a brief moment- like a normal child again. It was hard. It was hard pretending nothing had happened when what had happened had been so recent. Parts of Harry's body still hurt, and if it weren't for Madam Pomfrey's potions, it would be so much worse. Just thinking about his time with Voldemort was enough to have Harry shaking uncontrollably.

The lull of Minerva's voice was making him sleepy, and Harry closed his eyes. _He felt like he was floating through the sky, the wind blowing gently on his face as he laughed at being so high up..._ He heard a creak as Albus stood up from the chair he had been occupying next to the bed, followed by what felt like something heavy land near his feet, and Harry reluctantly half-opened his eyes. _It felt so nice to just lie there. . ._

'Albus-'

'Shhh,' said Albus gently. 'There is no need to speak. I just need to ask you something, Harry, and it's very important.'

Minerva's voice had stopped, and despite Albus' calm, Harry suddenly felt much more alert. He tried to sit up, panic flaring in his chest.

'Shhh,' repeated Albus, placing a warm hand on Harry's shoulder. 'Harry, I know this will be hard. And I am so, so sorry. But-' He took a deep breath. 'I need to know what happened to you. So I can understand, so we can _help_ you get better. There is something I can do. It won't hurt, but it will allow me to take your memories and put them in a bowl where I can watch them, like a Muggle film, and they will show me what happened.'

Harry buried his face into Minerva's robes, and she ran a shaky hand over his head.

'Harry? Please. . . we want to help you. I- we- _need_ to help you. . . please, let us make it better. And I promise you it will not hurt.'

There was a pause in which it seemed like Harry would continue to stay silent and unresponsive. But then, slowly, he detached himself from Minerva and stretched out his arms. Albus embraced him, still sitting on the bed, and Harry immediately felt safer and calmer. He knew that Albus wouldn't hurt him. He nodded, eyes scrunched up against the fabric of Albus' robes.

Albus breathed in heavily. He slowly brought out his wand, and though Harry flinched in his arms, didn't speak except to mutter another soothing 'shhh'.

With one arm wrapped around Harry while his hand stroked his back, Albus brought his wand up to the side of Harry's head, above his right ear. This was a type of new memory retrieving spell he had created. It was used in court sometimes, and it worked in a way that it didn't hurt whoever the memories were being extracted from, and they didn't have to think of them in order for someone to take them. All Albus had to do was gently slip into Harry's mind and think hard about what he wanted on Harry's behalf, whilst his body was still 'outside' and holding his wand to extract the memories.

'On three, Harry, just relax,' he said calmly. 'One. . . two. . . three. . .'

Immediately it was chaos. Harry was obviously not relaxing, and after everything he'd been through, Albus really couldn't blame him. Images and memories flashed past him one after the other, barely incomprehensible, and Albus thought as hard as he could about what he was there to retrieve. They began flashing past even faster, and he caught a glimpse of Harry tied up against a wall before the image flew past-

Albus felt Harry jerk in his arms and immediately exited his mind. Harry was shaking, eyes squeezed shut.

'I'm- I'm sorry Harry. . .' whispered Albus, horrified. He didn't understand. . . he'd been as gentle as he could. . . it wasn't supposed to hurt. . .

Then a thought struck him. It was almost certain that Voldemort had tried to enter Harry's mind during his capture. And there was no way that the Dark Lord would have been gentle. No. Voldemort would've forced his way into Harry's mind with as much violence and pain as possible, then ripped through his memories without a care for Harry's safety or suffering. . .

'Albus!' he was jerked out of his thoughts by Minerva to realise his hands were shaking violently.

'Albus, is everything. . .?'

'Fine.' said Albus, trying to stay calm. 'Harry. . .'

Harry gave a small sniff. His eyes were red, and his hands were gripping Albus so hard they had turned white.

As gently as he could, Albus pried Harry off of him and lay him on the bed, covering him up with the sheets up to his shoulders. Then he took the small bottle of dreamless sleep potion that now always sat on the bedside table and slowly handed it to Harry, who drunk it as he held Minerva's hand. He was used to it by now, of course, but still as terrified as he had been on day one.

Albus stood up from the bed. He conjured up the pensive that always sat in his office, placed it in a corner of the Wing, and glanced at Minerva. She hesitated for a split second, then nodded in understanding and walked over to it, looking back to see Harry already asleep peacefully.

Albus turned to Madam Pomfrey. The mediwitch had been watching the whole scene quietly and had now begun to clean things up around the other beds. Not that there was anything to clean, really. But she had to keep busy, for her own sake. . .

'Poppy-'

Poppy shook her head, and there was a fiery anger in her eyes. Her voice shook visibly as she spoke.

'I've already seen what they did to him, Albus. I don't- I _can't_ watch them do it-'

'I understand,' said Albus, putting a hand gently on her shoulder and looking down. After a few seconds, he looked back up and brought his wand to the tip of the shimmering pensive water, letting the memories go.

'I suppose there is no use leaving it for longer. Together?'

Minerva nodded.

It was over an hour later before they returned from viewing Harry's memories. Minerva immediately collapsed onto one of the beds, tears streaming down her face, and Albus managed to just put the pensive away before he, too, was sitting down and burying his face in his hands. Poppy only stared at them, shook her head sadly, then turned to check on Harry once more. There was no need to ask what they had seen. She knew by the marks and scars on Harry's skin, by the way he still seemed afraid of nearly everything- especially loud noises and sudden movements- and by the condition he had been in when Kingsley had brought him to the Hospital Wing on the night of his rescue. And really, what words were there to describe the horrors that Harry Potter had faced?

 _None,_ thought Poppy. _Absolutely none._

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 _A/N:_ Please review :)


	14. Chapter 14: The Minister

**Disclaimer: I am not JK Rowling**

 **A/N: I tried writing this more from the perspective of Minister Bagnold instead of Dumbledore's.**

* * *

 **Chapter Fourteen: The Minister**

Millicent Bagnold sat in the Headmaster's office at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, hands resting professionally on her lap as she surveyed Albus Dumbledore. The old man was seated across from her, and there was nothing about his expression that indicated he was lying to her or, Merlin forbid, _joking._ And yet, it was hard to believe. . . They'd managed to have nearly eight years of peace and stability, and here it was all crumbling before her.

'You are telling me, Dumbledore, that The Dark Lord has returned. That he has is back to full power. That he kidnapped Harry Potter several weeks ago and kept him captive for three days. That the Death Eaters supposedly rotting in Azkaban are not really there at all.'

She didn't know which of the statements had shocked her the most when Dumbledore had sat her down minutes earlier to break the news after calling for an Emergency Meeting. Death Eaters escaping? The Dark Lord _back_? Harry Potter kidnapped? It sounded like the plot of a bad book, but she was sure Dumbledore was telling the truth. Or at least what he believed to be the truth. As horrible as it sounded. . .

Dumbledore nodded. 'Yes. I am sorry, but it is true. And we must face the facts sooner rather than later. We are on the brink of another magical war-'

'-that _won't_ happen,' interjected The Minister. 'Not yet.'

Dumbledore blinked, and Bagnold felt a small twinge of satisfaction from having shocked the man before pushing the feeling away.

'I do not plan on throwing myself headfirst into another war, Dumbledore,' she said. 'We have already lived through one too many.'

'Then, Minister, with all due respect- what are you expecting to do? Lord Voldemort _will_ make a move. It is _vital_ for us to be ready.'

'And we will,' replied Bagnold firmly.

Dumbledore gave a short nod. 'Good. Then I suggest that as of first steps, alerting members of the Auror Department first and then sending out a public message early tomorrow morning-'

'Forgive me, Mr Dumbledore. But I have no intention of doing that.'

She had come to the conclusion almost immediately. Telling the Wizarding World that a Dark Lord many of them believed to be gone forever was very much alive and well would surely spark panic. No, it was better to keep this quiet, even if Dumbledore disagreed with her course of action.

'I will not be talking to the press in the morning, because the news of the Dark Lord's return will _not_ go out to the public,' Bagnold continued.

Dumbledore frowned. She knew he was trying to look calm, but his eyes betrayed the confusion and slight shock he was feeling.

'You want to keep our society ignorant?'

'Oftentimes ignorance is bliss, Dumbledore. He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named has made no current move against the Wizarding World and appears- by what you have told me- to be in hiding. Alerting everyone of his return would only spark panic and most likely send us into another war,' The Minister took a deep breath. 'I do not want another war, Dumbledore. It is better for now- I think- to operate in silence. I will alert the top Auror Departments at the Ministry and send them out to find the Dark Lord. They will be sworn to secrecy, of course. But that will be all.'

Dumbledore didn't speak for several long minutes. He stared down at the wooden surface of the desk, brow furrowed. When he looked up again, his face had returned to its neutral expression.

'I- I must admit, Minister, that I do not agree fully with what you are. . . suggesting. But I can see why it must be done.'

The Minister's eyebrows rose, slightly surprised that Dumbledore had agreed to cooperate so quickly. Well, the night sure _was_ full of surprises. 'We may not be on the same page, Dumbledore, but we are in the same book,' she acknowledged. 'And I know you want what is best for the Wizarding World as much as I do. You want what is best for Mr Potter.'

'Yes.' Dumbledore didn't bother to try and hide the sadness and weariness in his voice. 'I do.'

Bagnold's face softened slightly. 'I am sorry about what happened to him,' she said, and she meant it. Although the war hadn't affected her personally as much as it had others- she'd lost a sister-in-law during a random attack, but that had been all and they'd never been close- she had heard first hand of the horrors that the Dark Lord and his Death Eaters were capable of. And from what Dumbledore had described to her (which she suspected wasn't even the full extent of what had happened) the Potter boy had copped it worse than most would in the same situation, not to mention the fact that he was _nine years old._

They both stood up at the same time. Bagnold gave a curt nod and strode towards the fireplace she had come through earlier, throwing a handful of Floo powder at the flames- which immediately burned green.

'It won't stay silent forever,' remarked Dumbledore quietly from behind her. 'Voldemort _will_ make a move.'

Bagnold turned her head as she stepped into the fire. 'Then let's just hope it won't be for a good while yet. I wish you a pleasant evening, Headmaster.'

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A/N: Please review :)


	15. Chapter 15: New Beginning

**Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter**

* * *

 **Chapter Fifteen: New Beginning**

Several more weeks had passed since Albus had told Millicent Bagnold of Voldemort's return. A few days after having his memories retrieved by Albus, Harry had moved back into his bedroom. It was strange, sleeping in his own bed again, amongst all his clothes and toys and other possessions. It had felt- in the first few nights- almost as if nothing had changed, when in reality everything had.

The first day after returning to his room, Hagrid had come up to the castle to see Harry- a time Harry had cherished and enjoyed more than anything since his rescue. There was something so natural about being with Hagrid, who hadn't pushed or asked any questions or even made any indication that anything had happened save for giving Harry a tearful, slightly more gentle hug upon seeing him. Hagrid had also gifted Harry a book on dragons, which Harry had spent hours reading and re-reading. It had pictures, which he loved, and the text wasn't too hard to understand. But best of all, it distracted him from his thoughts.

Slowly, very slowly, life was returning to how it had been before.

The only thing that was different was that instead of running through the castle, occasionally sitting in classes or exploring new sections he'd never been in before, Harry had stayed mostly in Albus' quarters. The school year had begun a week earlier, and the castle was once more filled with hundreds of loud, excited children. And Harry had tried to avoid people and crowds as much as possible. He didn't want to talk, or have people stare at him (especially the new first years). He just wanted _quiet._

Harry _had_ attended The Sorting, however. After much assurance that everything would be fine by Albus and Aunt Minnie, he had agreed to go, and it hadn't been as bad as Harry had thought it would be. He had sat in between them, as he always did, and the rest of the teachers had mostly acted normal, cheerfully greeting Harry and gently offering him different plates of food during dinner. It was the first time most of them had seen him in weeks. The only person Harry had tried to ignore was Professor Snape. The man had approached him earlier on in the day and stiffly apologized for what had happened. The entire time Harry had been beside Albus, but he'd still panicked as memories of the events were thrust to the forefront of his thoughts, memories that he was constantly trying hard to push aside and forget about. Snape had thankfully kept it short and left almost immediately after speaking, but the image of him standing over Harry, wand raised, had lingered for several minutes afterwards. Albus had explained to Harry that Snape was on their side, and that he had been forced to hurt him- something which he'd definitely not wanted to do- but Harry could not stop thinking about it. . . remembering. The Death Eaters, Voldemort. . . they were all _bad._ Snape, Snape _wasn't_ bad, but he'd done bad things. And Harry couldn't understand that, even though the rational part of his mind knew it was fine.

Harry had also gone for a short walk around the Black Lake with Albus and Aunt Minnie. He hadn't seen the Giant Squid, but he'd enjoyed looking at the calm, smooth surface of the water and attempting to skip several pebbles. It had been in the middle of the day, of course, just before lunch. Harry had not gone outside a single time during the night. He hadn't been afraid of the dark before, but now a walk across the grass at any point after dusk meant shadows and cloaked figures and _pain._ He just couldn't.

Harry hugged his knees with his arms and stared at the flames burning in the fireplace in front of him. He had woken up in the early hours of the morning from a nightmare, screaming and crying hysterically. Voldemort had been there, as he was almost every time. But it was dangerous to take the Dreamless Sleep potion for extended periods of times, and Harry had to go without most nights. He felt more comfortable in his bedroom, and his dreams weren't as bad as before when he was still in the Hospital Wing, but at least twice a week the nightmares came. Albus was usually there within a minute, hugging or reading him a story until Harry fell back asleep. But this time the nightmare had been especially bad, and Harry was afraid of going back to bed. So Albus had made him a hot chocolate, and they'd both gone down the stairs into the room at the back of the office to sit in the armchairs by the fire.

'How are you feeling, Harry?' enquired Albus gently. He sat closest to the fireplace, fingers entwined on his lap. Harry gave a small, barely noticeable shrug.

'I don't know,' he whispered, voice wobbling.

'I will be having a staff meeting later on today, after breakfast, but you will be able to stay up here, reading some of your books. Does that sound good?'

'Yeah,' said Harry quietly. 'Can I. . . can I read the one you told me about yesterday?'

'The one about Merlin? Of course.'

Harry nodded slowly, rubbing at his eyes. He was still tired, but he really couldn't go back to sleep. It was too late for that.

Albus stared at Harry sadly. Things were getting better- much better. Harry's physical health had improved rapidly in the past few weeks, enough that Madam Pomfrey only had to check on him about once a week, at most. But it was the mental, psychological stuff Albus was worried about. Although Harry had definitely improved from the first few moments after he'd woken up several days after his rescue- and he was able to walk around and talk almost normally to other people- there was still something missing. Something that had been there before but seemed to have been extinguished, like a light. Albus could only hope that as more time passed, Harry would continue to grow stronger and return to his usual, happy and energetic self. It _had_ to happen. How long that would take though, was a whole other story.

* * *

 **A/N: Hello everyone! And that's it! Nightmare Most Real is finished, yay! Didn't turn out as great as I'd hoped, but I don't think it's too bad, and there are parts I'm quite proud of :D**

 **However, it's not the end of the story yet! I will definitely be writing a THIRD part very soon, hopefully posting the 1st chapter in the next few days. It will be called 'Silent Enemy' and will be set two years after all of this has happened, when Harry is about to start at Hogwarts, and (I'm hoping) will basically be all about Harry, who is still struggling with what happened, and how the events of the books will change.**

 **So yes. Big thank you to everyone who has followed/reviewed/favourited/read this story, and I hope you go check out the third part when it comes in a few days :)**

 **\- StrawberryTrebutchet**


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